


We Were Kings

by lforevermore



Series: We Were Kings [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Crown kink, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Humiliation, I've decided that's a thing, Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Sexual Slavery, Spanking, Spitroasting, Topping from the Bottom, Under-negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Virginity, gagging, immortal au, kind of, king negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5196110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lforevermore/pseuds/lforevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Michael catches a thief in their castle one night, so King Geoff gives the boy an ultimatum - one year of sexual servitude, or prison. </p><p>Gavin has his own secrets, though, and eventually, the kings and the thief fall into something that none of them will ever escape.</p><p>------------------------</p><p>Basically, an excuse for me to write everyone fucking Gavin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Thief: Michael/Geoff/Gavin

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Emono, who inspired it with their wonderful writing!
> 
> Follow at inmywildernesswriting.tumblr.com

They find him sneaking in through a second-story window one night, when he’s just barely eighteen and Michael’s crown is fresh upon his head. He’s the one that actually finds him, when the boy’s just set foot on the carpeted floor, pressing himself into the shadows. A thief with a cocky glint to his smile, eyes on the silver candlestick just a few steps away. He doesn’t see Michael, but Michael sees him.

He takes the thief down in nothing flat, gets him pinned to the carpet with his hand on the back of the thief’s neck, legs trapped by his own. He watches for a moment as the boy’s hands flail before finally settling – he goes pliant, easy underneath Michael, and _that’s_ what stops Michael from seriously injuring him.

“Pretty stupid of you, robbing a castle with five kings,” Michael says.

“Figured five kings meant five times the loot,” the boy says to the floor, and alright, he’s got a point there, even if his voice shakes as he speaks. He’s got the accent of a foreigner, which is intriguing.

Michael hauls him up by the scruff of his neck, relieves him of the dagger at his waist – he’s unused to fighting, Michael thinks, hadn’t even gone for the blade when Michael had thrown him to the floor. His first instinct was to go limp, disappear into the ground. He’s soft, and Michael likes that. He’s pretty too, and Michael thinks that maybe they can work out a deal for this little transgression.

He likes the look on the boy’s face when he realizes just who’s caught him sneaking around. Power is a heady thing.

Michael smirks, thinks about his cock between those pretty lips. “Tell me your name,” he says, and starts marching him down the hallway.

“Not sure it matters,” the thief says in return, glib.

Michael tightens his grip, watches as the boy curls in on himself a little, threatens to buckle to his knees. “I _thought_ that I just gave you a fucking order.”

“Gavin,” the boy says, and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

Michael loosens his grip – has to reward the boy for behaving, after all – and rolls the name over his tongue. He likes it, wants to murmur it into the boy’s neck and bite it into his skin.

They reach Geoff’s door, and Michael shoves it open – doesn’t bother knocking, not for this. Geoff is clothed, at least, wine in hand and seated at his desk. The fire is burning merrily, and Geoff’s crown is resting on the bed where it had no doubt been removed instead of the satin pillow set aside for it. Geoff raises an eyebrow at the abrupt entrance but says nothing as Michael shoves Gavin into the room, closing the door behind him.

“This is Gavin,” Michael says, watching as the thief stumbles to his feet and assesses his options. “I found him about to run off with some of our décor.”

Geoff stands, drops the quill but not the wine. “Theft is a very serious crime,” he says, smirking at Michael over the goblet. “We’ve beheaded for less.”

“That’s a little excessive!” Gavin says, a little squeak in his voice. “I mean. My lord.”

Geoff shakes his head. “And showing little respect to a king? The marks keep tallying up. Michael, you’re the one who found him, what do you suppose we do? Execution? Five years in the dungeons?” There’s a twinkle in Geoff’s eye that clearly says he knows what Michael’s thinking.

“I’ve heard the jails can teach a lesson or two,” Michael replies, and watches as Gavin grows even paler.

There’s a beat of silence, during which Gavin swallows, glancing between them and then to the window like he’s considering throwing himself out. He wouldn’t get that far, and he knows it.

“Maybe we can work something out,” Geoff says. “One year of service in the castle – no jails, no dungeons, just you doing _exactly_ as you’re told.”

Gavin wavers – Michael can see him turning the options over in his head. It’s a good deal, one that Michael would have taken if it had been offered to him. It’s a little more than Michael would have gone for, but that’s why Geoff’s the man in charge; he thinks big picture.

“Fine,” Gavin finally snaps. “I’ll clean your floors for a year, if it keeps me out of jail.”

Geoff smirks, glances at Michael. “Gavin, you won’t be cleaning floors. Strip.”

Gavin freezes, like he’s just realized what he’s agreed to. His eyes go wide and he glances over at Michael – who isn’t going to help him, Michael’s got no idea why he’s looking to him.

“Change your mind?” Michael finally asks.

Gavin scowls and starts to strip off his layers, revealing the lanky, toned body underneath. He pauses when he gets to his smallclothes, eyes darting from Geoff to Michael and back to Geoff. The king waves his hand, a quick ‘get on with it’ motion, and Gavin goes scarlet as he strips down to nothing at all.

Geoff steps forward and circles the boy, like he’s examining a freshly made suit of armor. One hand reaches out to settle on Gavin’s waist and the boy jumps, but the king’s arm comes around him to stop him from darting away. “Such a pretty, skittish thing,” Geoff says. “He’ll look good in furs, don’t you think, Michael?”

“And green,” Michael says. “We’ll have to call the tailor down in the morning.”

“And a pretty gold collar, right here.” Geoff’s hand slides up Gavin’s chest to circle around his neck – by Gavin’s gasp, Michael can assume he’s applying just a little bit of pressure. “He’s too damn pretty for servant’s work,” he says. “He’ll look so good in my bed, he’d never get anything done.”

He squeezes then - Michael watches as his fingers flex – and Gavin’s knees threaten to buckle again, cock fattening up. It’s the arm around his waist holding him up, and Michael wants desperately to touch, to press bruises onto his skin.

When the boy’s steady on his feet again, as steady as he can be in his position, Geoff steps away – delivers a quick smack to his ass that drives a yelp from Gavin’s mouth. “Get on your knees,” Geoff orders, and Gavin sinks to the floor without a word.

“He’s easy,” Michael says. “Did this in the hallway too – little bit of a firm hand and it’s like he melts.”

“Desperate for it.” Geoff nods. “Bet he’s just gagging for a cock in his mouth.” He gets a grip on Gavin’s chin and drags his gaze up, pats his face none-too-gently. “Aren’t you, Gavin?”

Gavin’s tongue darts out to wet his lips – his hard cock between his legs is betraying him, and Michael’s got some sympathy for that. His own erection is pressing against his trousers, and Michael wants nothing more than to unlace them and slide his cock over those pretty lips. Geoff seems to be more in control – but then, the man always seems to have control, even as everything burns around him.

Geoff frowns, hand sliding around to fist in Gavin’s hair, dragging his head back. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” Gavin finally gasps out, eyes closing.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want a cock in my mouth,” Gavin answers perfectly, and Geoff releases his hair, letting his head fall forward.

“Good boy,” Geoff says, and pats Gavin’s cheek again. “Sounds like he’s done this before.”

Gavin flushes at being talked about, looks down and away as best he can with his chin still in Geoff’s grip. Michael can’t keep his eyes away from the image the thief makes, kneeling on the floor and flushed, hard cock and wet lips. “Maybe he was hoping to get caught. Slut.”

“It’s going to be a long year for you,” Geoff says, and lifts a hand to motion Michael over.

Michael moves, takes a seat on one of the plush chairs near the fire and spreads his legs wide. Finally, finally, he undoes the ties on his trousers, pulls his aching erection free, and watches as Gavin’s eyes dart to it, then up to Michael’s face.

“Go on,” Geoff says, releases Gavin’s chin and waves a hand in Michael’s direction.

And _gods_ , but Gavin was made for this – he _crawls_ the short distance to Michael, sleek line of his back revealing just how agile and graceful the boy could be. Michael wonders if he could have slipped out of his grasp in the hallway, wriggled away and disappeared into the shadows. It’s possible, he realizes, that Gavin really _did_ want to be caught. The question was why?

Then Gavin is kneeling before him and Michael decides that the thoughts and wondering can wait until later – he wants that mouth around his dick, and from the look in Gavin’s eye, he’s exactly where he wants to be.

“You like this,” Michael says, and threads his fingers through Gavin’s hair, curling at the base of his neck and pulling him forward. “Gonna be good for us?”

Gavin meets his gaze – defiant and fiery, but so full of want. It makes Michael want to pin him down, makes him want to _make him_ , and he’s pretty sure that Gavin would like that too. This boy is _perfect_ , absolutely stunning, will more than fit the bill of what they’ve all been looking for.

He opens his mouth instead of answering, curls his lips around the tip of Michael’s cock and sucks, looks up at Michael through his lashes.

And it’s a pretty sight, it is, but Michael wants to fucking ruin him. So he curls his fingers around the nape of Gavin’s neck and pushes him down, slow and steady, until Gavin’s nose is pressed to the hair there at the base of Michael’s dick. Gavin’s hands are curled around Michael’s calves as he struggles to breathe through his nose, and when Michael looks up, Geoff is watching them both with dark eyes and a hungry expression on his face.

He lets Gavin up, watches as the boy pulls off and breathes for a moment, spit dripping down his chin and mouth open wide. Gavin doesn’t uncurl his hands, doesn’t look away from Michael, and _fuck_ , he’s going to wreck him, make him forget his own name, make him never want to leave.

“Hold still,” Michael orders. “And watch your fucking teeth.”

Gavin grins in response, the little shit, shows his teeth before opening his mouth even wider. Michael presses him down again, rolls his hips up and fucks into the tight, warm heat, revels in the little sound that Gavin makes as he tries to swallow him down. It’s messy, after that – Gavin _clearly_ needs to be doing this more often, if the way that he gags and chokes is any indication – but Michael doesn’t care. He wants to see Gavin messy, wants to _devastate_ him, wants to leave him a mess in the bed.

Finally, he pulls Gavin away, watches and listens as Gavin sucks in breath after breath, uncurls a hand from Michael’s leg to wipe tears away.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” Michael murmurs, considers finishing himself on Gavin’s face to complete the image.

“He’ll look even prettier bouncing on my cock,” Geoff says, and Gavin flushes a dark red, glancing down and away again.

Michael notices, and a thought strikes him – Gavin may not have ever been lain down and fucked before. “I think he’s a virgin,” he says aloud, watches as Gavin’s eyes dart up to his again.

“I’m not –“ Gavin splutters. “I’ve… before!”

Geoff laughs, starts undoing the buttons on his shirt. “I think you’re right, Michael.” He strides forward, crouches down beside where Gavin’s kneeling between Michael’s legs. Gavin jerks forward suddenly, like he’s trying to get away, and only succeeds in crowding closer to Michael. “I don’t think anyone’s ever touched his pretty little ass before.” His arm moves, and Gavin twists, trying to bat him away, but Michael grabs hold of his wrists and pins them to the chair arms.

“Be good for us, Gavin, and we’ll be good to you,” Michael says.

Given the movement of Geoff’s hand coupled with the way that Gavin’s squirming, Michael can only assume that Geoff is rubbing circles around his hole, and fuck, what Michael wouldn’t give to see that.

“I want to watch him open you up,” he says, low and rough. “Want to see you rocking on his fingers, see the look on his face when he finds that sweet spot inside you. I bet you’ll make the prettiest noises when he fills you up.”

“M-Michael!” Gavin gasps out.

Geoff pulls his hand away suddenly, cracks his palm across Gavin’s bottom with a resounding smack. Gavin yelps and tries to squirm away again.

“You haven’t earned his name,” Geoff growls, and spanks him again. Gavin whimpers this time, a beautifully broken little sound.

“Yes, my lord, I’m sorry!” Gavin manages in a rush, stringing the words together.

Geoff grabs Gavin’s arms, pulls him up to his feet and shoves him towards the bed. “On the bed,” he orders. “Hands and knees.”

Gavin does as he’s told, looking over his shoulder to watch as Michael stalks to the bed, shedding clothes as he goes. Geoff yanks the crown off the bed and tosses it onto the sofa, gently, before sliding a hand down Gavin’s spine.

Geoff waves Michael over to sit at the head of the bed, and Gavin immediately goes to swallow his cock down again – yes, fuck, the boy is _perfect_ , eager and willing and so very gorgeous. Michael stops him, though, doesn’t want those teeth anywhere near his dick when Geoff starts working him over.

Speaking of. A vial of oil hits the bed and Geoff climbs on behind Gavin. He smoothes his hands down Gavin’s sides, like one would a skittish horse, slips his hand beneath them and gives Gavin’s cock a quick tug. The moan that it draws from Gavin is beautiful, as short as it is.

“Pretty boy,” Geoff says, and presses his lips to the base of Gavin’s spine. “Our pretty little bird.”

Michael can’t see, but he can imagine, and the little gasp that escapes Gavin is evidence enough that Geoff’s fingers are circling his hole. Michael cards a hand through his hair as Geoff presses a finger in. Slowly, Geoff works him open, until Gavin is whimpering, trying to bury his burning face in Michael’s hand, arm, thigh, whatever Michael will let him reach.

Geoff pulls his hand away, and Gavin lifts his head, glances back over his shoulder with half-lidded eyes like he’s almost offended that Geoff has left him empty. Michael groans when Geoff grips at Gavin’s waist – he knows the feel of those hands, the friction of Geoff’s cock pressing in, in, in, until he’s sheathed fully. Gavin’s breathing harshly by the time that Geoff finally stills, pets a hand down Gavin’s back. Michael brushes hair from his boy’s face, and they give him a minute to adjust.

“Shh,” Michael says, petting Gavin’s hair. “We’ll have you begging for it soon enough – you’ll be desperate to be filled, boy, pleading for one of us to fuck you. Ryan’s gonna love splitting you open, sweetheart, and Ray’s gonna fucking ruin you.”

“Right now it’s my turn,” Geoff says, half growl and half grunt. He pulls back and thrusts in, driving Gavin forward with a whimper.

It won’t take long for Gavin to collapse into his lap, Michael thinks, not with the way his arms are already shaking. Geoff solves the problem by looping an arm around his waist and dragging him back, seating him on his cock, pressing it even deeper. Gavin looks blissed out, skin flushed and little noises escaping him with every breath.

Michael knows that feeling. He watches while Geoff rocks up into him, drawing even more noises from Gavin – punched-out moans and desperate whines. Gavin’s dick is fattening up again, and Michael crawls forward on the bed to get a hand around it. The moan that Gavin lets out is surprised and wanton, and Michael lets Geoff fuck him up into his fist for a few moments.

“Want Michael to get his mouth on you, Gavin?” he hears Geoff murmur. “Gonna beg your king like a good little slut? A pretty whore desperate to come?”

“P-please,” Gavin manages, and he sounds overwhelmed, like he can’t take the feeling of Geoff inside of him, pressing up and no doubt rubbing against that perfect spot. “My lord, please…”

“I want to feel him come on my cock,” Geoff says, looking to Michael even as his hands grip tighter on Gavin’s waist.

Michael moves to obey, draws Gavin into his mouth and sucks hard, hollowing his cheeks and listening to the sounds above him. Geoff is rocking up into him and it’s too much for the boy, Michael knows, as he hears Gavin’s gasps and moans getting steadily louder. Gavin shouts a warning – “My lord, I’m going to…!” – before he comes, and Michael sucks down the taste of him, swallows and pulls away, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Geoff shifts, presses Gavin back down with a hand at the nape of his neck, until Gavin’s head is pressed to the bed. Then, Geoff starts to fuck him, a quick rhythm that Michael knows intimately.

“Michael, come on his face,” Geoff orders, breathless and cracking – he’s close.

Michael nods and starts to tug at his own dick, twisting his hand and playing with the head, looking down at the fucked-out boy on the quilts. Geoff groans and stills, fucking once, twice more, before gripping Gavin’s hip hard, fingers of his other hand digging into the back of his neck.

Michael comes only a second later, his spend decorating their boy’s cheek and lip. To his surprise, Gavin opens his mouth and tries to catch some of it – he truly is their perfect little slut.

Geoff is the one who fetches the cloth to clean their boy, but Michael is the one who wipes his face carefully, watches as Gavin slowly comes back to himself.

“Stay, Michael,” Geoff says – it’s not a demand this time, it’s a request.

Michael nods and gets himself and Gavin beneath the quilts and furs of the bed, wraps his arm tight around the boy’s waist and presses himself close. Gavin practically melts into him, still riding the high a little.

“Were we the first?” Michael asks.

Gavin hesitates, then nods.

It’s something primal in him that curls up and purrs happily at the revelation, that _they_ were the first – even if Gavin had been on his knees for another at one point, they were the first to fuck him open. There are many more firsts to be had, as well, Michael thinks, as Geoff extinguishes the lamps and comes to bed. They sandwich Gavin between them, limbs draped possessively over him.

It’s going to be a good year, Michael thinks, and dreams of gold and green.


	2. Return of a King: Ryan/Gavin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan returns from a long two weeks away to a very pleasant surprise.

Gavin settles insomuch as he gets used to the castle around him. He’s only left King Geoff’s room for a few moments at a time, and only in the company of Geoff or Michael – he still doesn’t know if he’s allowed their names, but he calls them by their names in his head. He’s careful of his tongue, wants to be good for them. It’s confusing, because he also wants to dart away every chance he gets. So far they’re making sure that he doesn’t get that chance, keeping their hands on the small of his back whenever they take him onto the balcony or to see the tailor. When they both leave, Gavin finds himself chained to the bed, by a delicate but surprisingly strong chain, just long enough for him to do what he needs to do.

They give him books, but the isolation is enough to have him looking forward to their return.

Gavin’s got his nose in a book, naked as the day he was born under the sheets, when the door opens in the mid-afternoon one day. He glances up, expecting a servant – the kings never return so early, but to his surprise, it’s King Geoff, King Michael in tow.

“Up,” Geoff orders, and Gavin complies quickly, marking his page with a fold. Geoff walks over and unlocks the chain from the collar around Gavin’s neck, pulling him forward into a sensual kiss. When he pulls away, he swipes his thumb across Gavin’s lower lip, eyes dropping to his mouth. “I’ll miss you in my bed tonight,” he murmurs, and confusion ripples through Gavin.

“But Ryan will appreciate him,” Michael says, and lays a bundle of clothes on the bed. He tosses a set of smallclothes to Geoff, who holds them out to Gavin.

It’s honestly the most he’s worn in three days.

They dress him in soft, fine clothes – green and gold, and give him a pair of black boots to wear. He wonders, briefly, whether they’ve burned his other clothes and worn boots.

“Seems a pity to dress me up just to rip ‘em off, sire,” Gavin says.

Geoff chuckles. “Ryan likes unwrapping his gifts,” he says.

Ryan, another King. Gavin knows the name like the back of his own hand, has spent hours turning over the names in his own head, over his own tongue. He’d gone over all of their names – had honestly just been so curious, he’d gotten reckless and gotten caught.

“Especially after a long couple of weeks traveling,” Geoff goes on. He grabs Gavin’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “Listen to me – word to the wise, pretty bird. Behave yourself, don’t be smart with him. He _will_ put you in your place, and he won’t be nice about it.”

Gavin swallows – he’s heard about Ryan before, of course he has. The Mad King, quick to strike when he was on the throne, a sardonic smile and blood on his blade. They were sending him to the Mad King’s bed, he realizes, and pales.

A hand smoothes down his back, lips finding his neck over the high collar of his fine shirt. “Change your mind, Gavin?” Michael asks, against his skin.

“No, sire,” Gavin shakes his head – he’s exactly where he wants to be.

“Just behave yourself,” Michael says. “Do what he says. He’s been gone two weeks, he doesn’t like to go so long without relief.” He gives Gavin’s ass a pat, digs his fingers in briefly to get a handful.

They lead him out of the room, Michael with one hand on Gavin’s waist. They’re going somewhere that Gavin’s never been before, he and Michael one step behind Geoff. They’re joined by guards as they walk, and more open a great door to the hall, which Gavin soon realizes is absolutely filled with people.

People’s gazes are drawn to him as he walks beside the kings, held possessively in Michael’s grasp. Eyes take in the gold collar around his neck, the marks high on his jaw from Michael’s teeth, and the whispers begin, following them as they stride through the hall and to the even bigger doors, presumably to the outside. Gavin has never liked being in the light – he prefers the shadows, where no one can see him work, and he slinks closer to Michael as a result.

The doors are pulled open by the guard, and sunlight streams through into the waiting hallway. The crowd moves as one, led by the kings and, by extension, Gavin. As his eyes adjust to the light he finds that they’re meeting another group, led by a handsome man on a night-black horse.

The man dismounts and inclines his head to Geoff – he’s tall and handsome, scruff on his chin, and his gaze travels over Gavin like a heated caress.

“Welcome home,” Geoff says, holding out his hand.

The Mad King clasps it, does the same to Michael, and lifts his hand to wave at the court gathered around them. A cheer goes up, and the crowd begins to dissipate, the nobility going into the castle and the servants and guard returning to work. A fresh-faced boy comes and takes the reins of the black horse from King Ryan, bowing and skittering away.

Gavin isn’t sure if he should bow. Every time he shifts, Michael’s grip tightens on his waist, like he’s afraid that Gavin is about to bolt. Still, he drops his eyes – he’s heard stories of this King, both terrible and great, the kind whispered in dark corners of taverns. He doesn’t want to accidentally offend the man, lest he draw his ire.

“And who is this?” Ryan asks, voice low. The question is directed around Gavin, not at him, he knows. He’s quickly becoming used to be spoken about rather than spoken to.

“A little bird Michael caught sneaking about,” Geoff says, and runs his hand down Gavin’s arm possessively. “Decided it was pretty enough to keep.”

Gavin flushes, resisting the urge to twist away and disappear into the shadows.

A third hand, clad in a riding glove, cups his chin, lifting his head to look at King Ryan’s handsome face. “And does this pretty bird sing?”

“Beautifully,” Geoff says.

A smile, slow and predatory spreads across Ryan’s face. “I take it he’s to sing for me tonight?”

“He’s new – be gentle with him,” Michael says, and finally releases Gavin’s waist.

“I take it you’re retiring to your rooms for a few hours?” Geoff asks with a smirk.

Ryan brushes his hand, still in the glove, through Gavin’s hair. “I think I will.”

“Don’t lose him, he’s liable to run,” Michael says, and fully releases Gavin, fingers trailing across his back as his hand falls away.

“He won’t,” Ryan says, with an arrogant confidence. “Will you, little bird?” His grip on Gavin’s chin suddenly becomes rough, like a promise, should Gavin choose to run.

Gavin thinks that if Ryan had been the one to catch him in that hallway days earlier, there’s a very good chance he would be dead. “No, sire,” he says, has to struggle for the words. “I won’t… I won’t run.”

“Good,” Ryan says. “Geoff, Michael. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Don’t bring him if he can’t walk,” Geoff advises, and Gavin blushes hot, from the tips of his ears all the way down his chest.

Ryan strides off, like he’s completely certain that Gavin will follow, and well, Gavin’s not stupid enough _not_ to. He has to jog to catch up, but he makes sure to stay two steps behind the King – he doesn’t want to risk any offense at all, will do whatever it takes to stay on the Mad King’s good side.

He can’t help the little curl of anticipation in the bottom of his stomach, though, and the thought that he could be excited almost shames him.

They reach what Gavin can only assume are King Ryan’s quarters. Ryan waves the guards stationed there aside, and they let Gavin through without a single glance. Once the doors close behind him, though, they’re alone, and Gavin eyes Ryan’s form discreetly.

He stands in the middle of the room, unsure of what he’s supposed to be doing – he doesn’t want to forget himself and be too informal, so he waits for direction. Ryan strips off his riding clothes, gloves, boots, and cloak, before he finally turns to Gavin.

“Tell me, little bird,” he says, leans against the wall like he’s appraising Gavin. “What’s your name?”

“Gavin,” he answers – doesn’t stumble over the words, even though his voice shakes a little.

“And your surname?”

Ah. Gavin had hoped no one would ask that – tricky thing, names.

The lie comes easily to him. “Gruchy.”

“Well, Gavin,” Ryan says, “you’re certainly pretty.”

He steps forward, reaches out and straightens Gavin’s collar before sliding his hand down Gavin’s chest, wrapping his arm around Gavin’s waist and pressing himself close – the line of their bodies flush together. Gavin can feel the material of the kilt against his legs, the hard line of Ryan’s cock against his own. Ryan’s other hand comes up to curl around the back of Gavin’s neck, guiding him up into a kiss. It starts slow and quickly devolves into Ryan licking his way into Gavin’s mouth, nipping at his lips and finally pulling away only when Gavin’s breathless.

“I’ve not had a bed partner for two weeks,” Ryan murmurs, voice low. “It’s taking everything I have to be gentle with you, little bird. Be grateful.”

“Thank you, my liege,” Gavin replies, a little hoarse.

“Oh, you’ll be very good for me, won’t you,” the king says. His fingers find the laces on Gavin’s trousers, undoing them with deft fingers and shoving them down. He gets a hand around Gavin’s cock and pumps, drawing a cry from him, the hand around his waist keeping Gavin close.

He pulls away and starts to unbutton Gavin’s shirt, satisfied only when he can get a good look at Gavin’s chest. Skilled fingers find Gavin’s nipple and pull, the arm around his waist keeping him from twisting away – all Gavin can do is whimper and arch.

Ryan chuckles and then shoves Gavin towards the bed, walking him back until Gavin’s back hits the mattress. The king strips him of his pants, throwing them to the floor, and then shoves Gavin’s legs up, practically bending him in half.

“Look at this pretty hole,” Ryan says, and Gavin flushes, tosses an arm over his face to hide it. “Don’t get shy on me, little bird, let me see your face.”

Gavin obeys, albeit slowly – too slowly, it seems, and Ryan delivers a quick spank to his hole. Gavin cries out and squirms, one leg shooting out, but Ryan catches it and bends it back once more.

“Now, now, let me see you,” Ryan says, and Gavin wants to hide in the shirt he’s still wearing. Fingers probe at his hole, circling the rim before dipping inside, and Ryan hums. “You’ve already been fucked open today… let me guess, by the teeth marks on your ass, I’d say it was Michael.”

Gavin nods.

Another spank, this one harder, to his left cheek. “Answer me, Gavin.”

“Y-yes, sire,” Gavin says quickly, and fights not to cover his face once more.

Ryan lets go of his legs, only to flip him suddenly. Gavin gets his knees under him – he’s learned this position well in the past three days – but Ryan pushes between his shoulder blades, forcing his chest flush to the bed.

“Spread your legs,” Ryan orders. “Keep your ass up.”

Gavin does as he’s told, earning a pleased hum from Ryan and a gentle caress of his thigh.

“God, you look so good like this,” Ryan murmurs. “All bruised up and still begging for more, aren’t you? I know that pretty cock is hard, Gavin. You want this, don’t you? Tell me.”

Gavin struggles for the words. “I-I want this, sire,” he says, mostly to the blankets.

Ryan is apparently satisfied, though, and lets his hand ghost down Gavin’s back. “Spread yourself for me,” he says.

Gavin flushes – Geoff had asked this of him, but he had been so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t had the spare energy to feel embarrassed. Now, his cheeks burn as he reaches back and spreads his cheeks for Ryan, feels open and exposed in a way that he’s learning to love.

“Good,” Ryan hums again. “Good boy, Gavin.”

The first lick takes him by surprise – Gavin yelps, jerking away, but Ryan’s hands find his hips, dragging him back into position. The king licks a fat stripe across Gavin’s hole, and Gavin whines, dropping one hand to the bed. He quickly moves to replace it, but Ryan bats him away, digs his fingers into the meat of Gavin’s ass and holds him open.

“Just feel, Gavin,” Ryan murmurs, presses a kiss over a bruise that Michael had left the night before.

He licks around the rim, nips at the soft globes of Gavin’s ass. Gavin loses himself a little bit – ‘ahs’ punching out of him like it’s all he can manage. He can barely breathe, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before – too much, all at once, all the nerves on fire. Ryan fucks his tongue in and Gavin arches, gripping at the sheets and whining.

“R-Ryan!” Gavin whimpers, and the King stills. _Fuck_ , he thinks as he realizes what he’s done.

Ryan lets out a dark hum. “Try again,” he says.

“I’m sorry, my king,” Gavin says quickly. “I didn’t mean to.”

Ryan reaches up and grabs the collar of Gavin’s shirt, yanking it down his shoulders and tangling Gavin’s arms in the sleeves. Gavin tries to fight his way out of the shirt, certain that Ryan wants him naked, but Ryan stops him. He’s trapped in his own shirt, Gavin realizes, tangled in the sleeves so that his full weight is resting on his chest and shoulders.

“Don’t move,” Ryan warns, still gripping the collar of Gavin’s shirt. “You want my name, you’ll damn well earn it.”

The first smack to Gavin’s thigh is hard enough to make him yelp, struggling against the shirt.

“Say my name again,” Ryan commands darkly, and gives Gavin’s ass two spanks, in quick succession.

“My liege, please!” Gavin sputters, hoarsely.

“I gave you an order,” Ryan says warningly.

Gavin whimpers. “Ryan, please.”

“I didn’t tell you to beg. Just my name.”

Another smack, another yelp from Gavin. “Ryan!”

Ryan hums again – god, Gavin’s going to be screwed if he ever makes that sound outside of his quarters. He’ll probably drop to his knees in the middle of the hall at the sound. “Again.”

Gavin braces himself for another spank. “Ryan,” he says quickly.

“Good. Good, Gavin, good boy,” Ryan says, and dives back in, holding Gavin’s sore ass open and fucking him open with his tongue, like he’d never stopped.

Gavin practically sobs – it’s _too much,_ the pain is mingling and mixing with the pleasure.

“Please, Ryan,” Gavin begs. “Please, can I come?” He’d learned to ask from Geoff, even though he wasn’t sure he could stop himself at this point.

“Yes, sweet bird,” Ryan says, and slides a hand beneath them to fist Gavin’s dick, firm and slow, ratcheting Gavin higher and higher until he spills all over the sheets below.

Gavin breathes for a moment, head swimming as he struggles to come back to himself. Ryan draws his hand across Gavin’s back – wiping his spend, Gavin realizes with something like arousal curling in his stomach – and moves to spread Gavin open once more.

“W-wait.” Gavin’s too sensitive, he can’t –

“You’re not the one giving orders,” Ryan says darkly, and fucks his tongue into Gavin again, punching a long, drawn-out moan. It’s almost painful, but it quickly turns into pleasure that Gavin’s not prepared for, washing over him and dragging him down into that grey space inside his head.

Ryan fucks him open like that, drawing him to the edge and pulling him back three times, until Gavin’s cock is plump and hard again, and Gavin thinks he might rip the damn shirt with the way he’s trying to claw his hands free. Tears run unchecked from his eyes as he sobs, this time with Ryan’s two fingers fucking him open slowly, spreading and scissoring like the man is toying with him.

A litany of pleas fall from Gavin’s lips – he can’t stop them, can’t keep them back. Sweat has his hair plastered to his forehead, and it’s like he can’t decide if he wants to rock back into the pleasure or away from the sensation of ‘ _too much, oh gods_ ’.

“What are you begging for, Gavin?” Ryan murmurs against his thigh. “Do you want to come again? Or do you want me to fuck you?”

“A-anything,” Gavin whimpers. “Anything, Ryan, sire, please…”

Hands draw up Gavin’s thighs, over his hips, to settle at his waist. Ryan pushes himself in slowly, draping himself over Gavin’s back and resting his hands on the bed near Gavin’s head.

“Next time,” he says, low and rough. “Next time I’m going to tie you to the bed and tease you for hours, see how many times I can make you come, again and again. Maybe bring Michael in to watch – gods, but you look pretty all bruised up, I’ll bet you love it when he throws you around like you’re nothing, don’t you?”

Gavin makes a noise of assent, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

Ryan’s hand finds Gavin’s cock, pulling him mercilessly until Gavin is coming again, arching into Ryan and moaning, long and loud. Ryan stills within him as he does, then draws his hand up to tangle it in his hair, still messy, and fuck, Gavin doesn’t care. Gavin gasps as Ryan fucks up into him once, twice, then pulls out, stripping his cock until hot spurts of come are shooting across Gavin’s back.

“Gorgeous,” Ryan pants, and releases Gavin’s hair, clambering off the bed.

Gavin curls in on himself, finally disentangling himself from his shirt, dropping it over the side of the bed. He tracks Ryan across the room, half-tempted to whine for the man to crawl into bed with him, the other half content to watch Ryan strip off his shirt and kilt, revealing the toned man underneath.

The king looks over at him and smirks. “Should make you go to dinner like that,” he says, “fucked out and covered in my come. It’s a pretty sight, little bird.”

Gavin blushes. “Please don’t, sire,” he says, makes sure his tone is still deferential.

“You use my name in this room, Gavin,” Ryan says, gaze shifting to something darker. “Or do I need to remind you again.”

“No!” Gavin says quickly. He’s not sure his ass can take it. “I’ll remember, Ryan.”

“See that you do.” Ryan pulls on another shirt as well as another kilt, and places his crown upon his head. “I’ll bring you dinner. Get some sleep, you’ll need it for the rest of the night.”

Gavin swallows. He’s in for a long night.


	3. We're All Mad Here (Ryan/Michael/Gavin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan notices that there's a problem with how Michael handles Gavin. He takes care of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is built around the fact that Michael is not safe or sane when it comes to sex. While not my intention, it may trigger abuse survivors. PLEASE be careful!

Ryan realizes there’s a problem when he sends for Gavin after a night with Michael. The boy comes in wearing a ring of bruises around his neck, matching ones around his wrists, and he looks like he hasn’t slept at all that night. Instead of fucking him through the mattress, as was Ryan’s original plan, he puts Gavin to bed for a few hours, watches as he drops off almost immediately, curled into Ryan’s sheets.

 _This_ will need to be dealt with, Ryan thinks.

He brings Geoff in, carefully shows him their sleeping boy’s arm and neck. Geoff’s mouth tightens to a thin line, and they step out onto the balcony together, carefully closing the door behind them.

“He’s too reckless,” Ryan says.

“Of course he is, he’s young,” Geoff replies. “Young and immortal.”

“He doesn’t realize how breakable Gavin really is.” Ryan leans on the balcony railing, overlooking the gardens far below. Ray would be coming back soon, Ryan knew – he hoped he would, anyway. Jack would be coming down from the North soon, as well, though Ryan doubted the man would be as excited about Gavin as Ray would – Jack was not one for pleasures of the flesh as they were.

Michael needed to be kept in check. He was young and reckless indeed, led by his passion and temper more than anything else. While it served him well when it came to battles and Geoff’s bedroom, it wasn’t appropriate for their pretty, vulnerable little bird.

“I can show him,” Ryan offers, and Geoff glances at him, taken aback by the genial way about him. They’ve always had a strange tug-of-war about Michael, unsure of who really mentored him. To defer to Geoff was a strange concession on Ryan’s part. “Teach him how to be… gentle.”

Geoff snorts. “You’re anything but gentle, Ryan.”

“I am with him.” Ryan makes a gesture to the closed door behind them. “We can’t afford not to be. Either let me teach Michael, or revoke his… privileges.”

Geoff gives Ryan a wry look. “You and I both know that revoking Michael’s _privileges_ would probably get us both into another round of ‘capture the throne.’ His last reign was bloody enough, we don’t need another one just yet.”

“All the more reason.”

With a wave of his hand, Geoff turns back to the balcony door. “Do it, then,” he says.

He keeps Gavin all that day, and through the night. He doesn’t fuck him, instead feeds him and gives him a book to read, makes sure to keep close to the boy through the day. Gavin has more color in his cheeks by the next morning, a little more light in his eyes – he doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as he had the day before. Gavin keeps shooting him confused looks, and it occurs to Ryan that it’s very likely he hasn’t had a night without sex since he had arrived.

He’ll have to talk to Geoff about that as well, he supposes.

Michael sends for Gavin during the morning, no doubt when he’s finished with whatever sparring he’s done to wake himself up. Gavin sighs a little as he rolls out of the bed, and the messenger averts his eyes as Gavin starts to pull his trousers on again.

“No,” Ryan says. Both Gavin’s and the messenger’s eyes snap to him, each of them comically wide.

“Sire?” the messenger asks, as though he’d misheard.

“I said, no,” Ryan repeats, and goes back to the letter he’s penning. “If Michael wants him, Michael can come speak to me.”

Gavin looks frozen in place, still pulling his pants up one leg, looking between Ryan and the messenger. Ryan raises an eyebrow at him, looking pointedly to the bed, and slowly, Gavin strips again, climbing back under the covers, still looking as though he’s not sure what he should be doing. He obeys, though, which says a lot – either that he’s more wary of Ryan’s ire than he is of Michael’s, or that he’d prefer Ryan’s bed over Michael’s.

The messenger, for his part, is spluttering like he’s never been told no in his life. And, Ryan supposes, there would be very few messages from a king that would be refused. Poor unlucky bastard.

When the messenger leaves with a stuttered bow, Ryan puts his pen down and strides over to the bed.

“Listen to me,” Ryan says, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching Gavin carefully. “When Michael comes in, you don’t speak to him. You don’t say a word unless you’re spoken to. Don’t get up, don’t make a move to leave. He’s learning a lesson. Do you understand?”

Gavin nods, clears his throat, and says, “Yes, Ryan.”

Ryan graces him with a small smile. “Good boy,” he says, and cards his hand through Gavin’s hair. “Trust me.” It’s a leap, one that he’s not sure that Gavin will be willing to take – of course, it’s not like Gavin has much of a choice in the matter.

Ryan leaves Gavin curled up on the bed, moving to wait for Michael by the fireplace, knowing that he makes an intimidating figure dressed in black. The lighting from the window is pleasant, and Ryan is _nothing_ if not overly dramatic. Gavin curls like he’s waiting for some terrible tempest, and it comes in the form of Ryan’s door banging open, Michael storming through.

“ _No_?” Michael snarls, slamming the door behind him. He gestures to Gavin. “Get up.”

Gavin looks to Ryan, eyes wide – trapped between two authorities is a frightening place to be, and Ryan holds a hand out, a small motion that settles Gavin.

“Not until I know that you can handle him,” Ryan says.

“Oh, I can _handle_ him,” Michael snaps. “All fucking night long.”

“No, you’re exhausting him,” Ryan replies. “You need to check your temper, Michael – he’s not as _resilient_ as you are.” He makes a quick motion with his hand, and Gavin rises, coming to his side – albeit hesitantly, as though he’s still not sure of himself, and wrapping a blanket around himself as he goes. It’s enough of a stutter that Ryan frowns; the boy should be sure of serving Ryan, at least. No matter, he’ll remedy it later.

Michael tracks him as he moves, watches as he hides in the blanket, and as Ryan tucks him under one arm. He shoots Ryan a dirty look, and Ryan wonders briefly if the younger king is _jealous_ , if this is something he can use later.

“Give me your hand,” Ryan orders, and Gavin complies, sticking it out of the blanket. Ryan takes it gingerly, turns it so that the bruises are prominent in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. “You could have broken it,” Ryan says to Michael, “or at the very least seriously bruised him.” He reaches up and pulls the blanket back, exposing Gavin’s neck. “And here – I doubt he enjoyed your teeth.”

“Did you fucking ask him?” Michael demands.

And, well, that’s actually a good point. Ryan looks down at Gavin. “Gavin?”

Gavin flushes. “I… At first, I liked it, but… then it just _hurt_.”

“Ah, so you just passed his tolerance,” Ryan says. “Michael, you’re going about this the wrong way.”

“And you’re right, just like always,” Michael snaps. “Get off your high horse, Ryan.”

“He listens to me, doesn’t he?” Ryan releases Gavin. “Knees. I want to see you.”

Gavin’s still flushed pink, but he does as Ryan says, dropping to his knees and shedding the blanket around his shoulders. He glances at Michael, but Ryan’s hand under his chin draws his gaze to the Mad King, to the dark little smile playing on his lips.

“He’s a very good boy for me,” Ryan says, quietly, like it’s just for Gavin, and not at all for the play of emotions across Michael’s face. “Doesn’t try to get away, doesn’t give me any lip. We’ve worked hard to make sure he knows who’s in charge here.” He turns his gaze to Michael. “Do you want this, Michael?”

Michael is quiet for a moment. “I like the fight,” he admits, still in a growl. Ryan’s wearing him down, though, he can tell. Playing the man is easy.

“There are safer ways. You have to remember – you are invincible. He is not.” Ryan reaches down, runs his hand through Gavin’s hair. “Sex is like a battle, Michael. There’s a strategy to it, a way that you have to go about it. You have to know your opponent, and be able to hit at his weak points.” Gavin is pliant beneath his hand, soft from a day and a half of doing nothing but laying in Ryan’s bed, eating Ryan’s food, being Ryan’s pretty, pampered pet. Ryan would wager a guess that as long as he keeps his voice pitched in a certain way, Gavin won’t even be listening – smooth and easy.

“And this battle?” Michael says, and Gavin starts.

Ryan soothes him with nails on his scalp. “Keep your voice down. He needs to feel safe here, or you’ll never win,” Ryan admonishes. “Our little bird is a hedonist – he wants to _feel_ , but only what he _wants_ to feel. You have to show him what he wants, burn him out of his own mind with the pleasure of it. You can take what you want that way.”

“Take care of your weapon and it will take care of you,” Michael says, quieter now. Ryan’s gotten to him, he knows, brushed past the anger and jealousy and settled in the back of Michael’s mind.

“Exactly. That isn’t to say you can’t be rough with him.” Ryan twists his fingers, suddenly, drawing a sharp gasp from Gavin as the boy’s eyes shoot open and up to him. He feels like a _god_ with Gavin on his knees and Michael watching, waiting to learn. “But only to an extent. Too much pain, and he’s lost to you. Too much pleasure, and he’s greedy. Everything in moderation.”

“You gonna show me?” Michael asks, voice gone low like it does when Ryan finds him in the empty corridor sometimes, a needy glint in his eye. It’s the voice that means he’s now officially thinking with his dick, and Ryan’s stirs in response.

“No,” Ryan says, grins slowly. “I’m going to direct you.” He releases Gavin and steps away, watches as the boy falters for a moment, confused before moving to follow. “Stay,” Ryan orders, and Gavin stops, one hand already on the stone floor. “Michael, tell him where you want him to be.”

“On the bed,” Michael says.

“Tell him _how_ you want him to be.”

Michael licks his lips as Gavin hesitates, glancing between them, before turning and crawling to the bed. Ryan can see the way that his skin burns – he likes the embarrassment, likes the feeling of being _beneath_ them. Ryan, for his part, settles on a couch, while Michael stalks over to the bed.

“On your back,” Michael says, and it’s not a barked command, but it is a command nonetheless. “Legs spread.”

Gavin does as he’s told, hands automatically going up to the head of the bed like he’s to be tied there – a favorite of Geoff’s, no doubt. They’re training him, slowly but surely; he crawls for Michael, crosses his wrists for Geoff, and is quiet for Ryan.

“How do you feel, Gavin?” Ryan asks, partially because he wants to know, but mostly because he knows he’ll like the answer.

“Exposed,” Gavin replies after a moment. “Nervous, Ryan.”

“You let him use your name?” Michael’s eyes find Ryan’s.

Ryan shrugs. “He’s earned it. So long as he stays respectful, he can keep it.” So he hasn’t earned Geoff’s or Michael’s names yet, apparently. Of course, Ryan’s is easiest to earn, and hardest to keep.

“I’m right here,” Gavin says. “You could talk _to_ me, instead of _about_ me.”

Ah. Gavin’s used to the fight as well, Ryan thinks, or else he wouldn’t be so bold as to speak up like that when Ryan was in the room. It takes everything he has not to put the boy over his knee, but this isn’t about Ryan and Gavin. It’s about Michael and Gavin.

“You’re _our_ little bitch,” Michael replies easily – Ryan can hear how he’s fighting the urge to yell, to snap, to growl. “We’ll talk _about_ you any way that we damn well please.”

Ryan can see his fingers curl. He asks, even though he knows the answer: “What do you want, Michael?”

“Violence,” Michael says, low.

To Ryan’s surprise, Gavin stiffens and lets out a little groan, hands flexing to grab at sheets and dick twitching. This won’t be as difficult as he thought, then, Ryan thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there will be more of this later.


	4. We're All Mad Here II (Ryan/Michael/Gavin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send requests for chapters or other fic to jellyfish-fic.tumblr.com!

“If you want violence, you have to control it,” Ryan says, low. “You can’t just swing wildly – you know better than that, Michael. He wants to fight. Don’t you, Gavin?”

“Yes,” Gavin says quietly, hands twisting in the sheets. He hasn’t closed his legs, despite the flush on his cheeks and chest, despite the embarrassment of being exposed.

“Yes _what_?” Ryan prompts – he isn’t sure he likes this side of Gavin, this boy who forgets the rules and wants to fight back. Again, though, this isn’t about him, it’s about the two of them and learning to control the dangerous rage inside of Michael.

“Yes, Ryan,” Gavin says quickly, glancing at him. Poor boy, it’s got to be confusing, having both of them here when their styles and preferences are so different.

“Control it,” Ryan says again, looking to Michael. “You can’t hit him as hard as you can hit me. Broken toys can’t be played with.”

Gavin squirms at that, finally closes his legs out of humiliation, no doubt. Ryan’s called him a toy before, and it always makes the boy flush a deep red and look away as his cock hardens.

“Spread your fucking legs,” Michael orders.

There’s a pause, and Ryan waits and watches. Gavin doesn’t do as he’s told, wants Michael to force them open, Ryan thinks. Michael looks to Ryan, hands clenched tight like he’s resisting the urge to lash out.

“He didn’t do what you told him,” Ryan says. “Make him. Firm enough to do what you need to do, but not enough to leave bruises.”

Michael gets one hand around Gavin’s ankle and pulls, dragging him to the edge of the bed. A sharp slap to Gavin’s thigh – and Ryan watches the skin turn white, then pink, watches as Michael restrains himself – has his legs opening again, a little whimper escaping him.

“Roll over,” Michael orders.

Gavin is slow to obey again, and Michael delivers another sharp spank, this time to Gavin’s hip. Michael looks at Ryan for a judgment – Ryan nods in response.

Gavin looks gorgeous, bent over the bed as he is, legs spread. There are fading bruises on his ass, no doubt from Michael’s teeth, fingerprints on his thighs. He looks _good_ like this, like something Ryan can take and own, and Ryan has to shift, reaching down to press at his own cock briefly.

“Take what you want,” Ryan says.

Michael leans over and bites, and from the way that Gavin twists, it’s too much for the boy.

“Wait,” Ryan orders, and Michael pulls away. “Too hard. Remember… he’s delicate.”

Michael nods, a look of concentration on his face, before he leans down and bites again. This time Gavin whimpers, hands twisting in the sheets as he hides his face. Perfect, then, just the right amount of pain.

“Give him pleasure at the same time,” Ryan advises. “He’ll start to associate the two of them together.” And perhaps that’s overplaying his hand a little, admitting that he’s training them, but if Michael picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he circles Gavin’s hole with his thumb, pressing and rubbing gently as he bites down again, this time over a fading bruise.

Gavin squirms and twists, fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets, but he starts to rock, humping the bed.

“Slut,” Michael says fondly, and drops down to blow a puff of air over Gavin’s hole.

Gavin rolls his head to look at Ryan, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. Ryan stands, going for the oil that he keeps on a table nearby, pressing it into Michael’s hand. Before Michael can uncork the vial, however, Ryan stops him, moving to where Gavin can look at him.

“Do you want a lot of preparation?” he asks. “Or just enough, so that it hurts a little?”

Gavin glances away, down at the bed. “Just enough,” he says, quietly.

“Do it quickly, then,” Ryan says to Michael, and then moves to settle on the bed. He can’t just watch – passivity isn’t in his nature, really, not when it comes to this. He strokes Gavin’s hair, watching and listening as Michael fingers him open, little keens falling from Gavin’s lips. Ryan can understand the temptation to mark Gavin up, the bruises and marks on his skin proclaiming him _theirs_. There are other ways to mark a soul, though, and Ryan has a few tricks left up his sleeve.

He leans down, twists his fingers in Gavin’s hair as Michael pulls his hand away. “Pretty little whore for us, aren’t you?” he murmurs, and watches as Gavin’s eyes go wide, breath coming in a short, sharp gasp. “Everyone in that court knows that you’re ours – knows that you beg for our cocks, knows that you wear our marks. We don’t need bruises to know that you’re ours, do we, Gavin?”

Michael grabs at Gavin’s arms, pulling them behind his back and taking his wrists in one of his own. Between Michael’s hold and Ryan’s hand in his hair, Gavin is practically immobile, unable to do anything but feel – perfect for the little hedonist that he is. Michael presses in, slow, teeth coming to worry at Gavin’s shoulder, eyes darting up to Ryan as though he’s still looking for approval.

It’s not as rough as it has been before, Ryan thinks, or as rough as he’d gathered from the bruises the night before. Michael’s learning.

“I asked you a question,” he tells Gavin, fingers twisting in his hair, pulling sharp.

“No, Ryan!” Gavin gasps out.

“Who do you belong to, Gavin? Who _owns_ you?”

“Y-you do – _ah_ ,” Gavin whimpers as Michael thrusts deep.

Michael takes one hand and drags his nails down Gavin’s side, groaning as the boy twists and squirms on his cock. “Damn right we do,” he says.

“Say it, Gavin,” Ryan purrs, and gets his cock out of his trousers with one hand, an impressive feat considering.

“Y-yours, I’m yours,” Gavin says.

It’s not enough for Ryan, even if Michael lets out a satisfied sound. “You can do better than that.”

Gavin gasps, lets out a long moan as Michael fucks into him. “I belong to you,” he says in a rush, like he has to breathe the words. “You own me.”

“Good,” Ryan says, and shifts so that he can tug Gavin’s mouth down onto his cock, lets Michael’s thrusts drive the boy up and down. He relishes the little sounds that Gavin makes, the vibrations that travel up his cock and his spine, the feeling of that tight throat giving way to him as he makes Gavin take him to the hilt. “Gods, look at you take it, perfect little slut. I’ll bet you can come from this.”

Gavin gives a little shake of his head, eyes darting up to Ryan’s.

“Ah, well,” Ryan says, and pulls Gavin off so that he can catch his breath. “We’ll work on it.”

They fuck him like that, pinned between them, split open on their cocks. Michael comes first, drives himself deep into Gavin, fingers digging into his hip and his arms, a swear escaping him. Ryan is next, and he pulls Gavin in, comes down the boy’s throat with a tight grip on his hair. Michael releases his arms, runs his hand down the line of them, and Gavin gets one hand under himself, going for his own cock. Michael bats him away, works him over until Gavin’s gasping and twisting, coming on Ryan’s sheets before slumping.

Ryan stands on admittedly shaky legs – he doesn’t let it show, though, this is his domain and he _won’t_ be weak. He grabs Gavin’s shoulders, hauls him up, and kisses at his neck softly. “You made a mess,” he says, low and dark. “Why don’t you clean that up?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from his right – Michael. Gavin turns a delicious shade of pink as Ryan shoves him to his knees, tangles his fingers in his hair, and pushes him forward. The image he makes, pink tongue darting out to clean up his own spend, come leaking out of him, bruises and marks galore, it satisfies something dark inside of Ryan while simultaneously unfurling it, feeding it. An image of Gavin chained to the throne, barely dressed at Ryan’s feet, crosses his mind.

But that’s for another moment. He’ll settle for this for now.


	5. Welcome Home: Ray/Gavin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray returns to the fold and meets Gavin. He takes what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send requests to jellyfish-fic.tumblr.com.

When Ray returns, there’s no pomp and circumstance like there was with Ryan – no big greeting of the court in the hall, no trumpets blaring, and no dressing up. He just shows up one day at dinner, one of the first that Gavin’s been allowed to (read: told to) attend. Gavin’s not even really paying attention to what’s going on around him, focusing instead on his really excellent chicken when suddenly the hall goes quiet. There’s a beat, and then talking resumes, including Geoff and Michael’s spirited debate about… Gavin’s not actually sure what it’s about.

The only one who stands is Ryan, and that’s when Gavin notices the figure walking up between the tables. He’s wearing a riding cloak and boots not dissimilar to the ones that Ryan had worn when he arrived, and Gavin recognizes his face from the portraits in the corridors. Geoff and Michael stand as well, but Gavin is unsure of himself – should he stand? No one else in the hall is standing. His question iss answered when Michael reaches over and put his hand on Gavin’s shoulder, essentially keeping him there.

Another new face, another new set of rules to follow, another king to obey. Gavin’s honestly starting to think that maybe he should have gone about this another way, something less conspicuous than consort. Or would he be a concubine? Harem? He’s not entirely sure what he is.

“We weren’t expecting you for another week,” Geoff says.

“I’ll just leave then,” King Ray replies, dryly, and Gavin has to hide a smile. The king catches his eye and smiles in return, giving him a once-over. Gavin feels like a damsel watching the knights on the field, finally getting the attention of the star. He even blushes like one, he’s pretty sure.

“Good to see you made it back safely,” Ryan says to Ray, with a small, private smile that Gavin’s never seen before. Ray’s eyes go from Gavin to Ryan, and he smiles back.

“It was boring. Purely bullshit, shouldn’t have even gone,” Ray replies, and walks around the table to take a seat at one of the two open seats. “You replace me while I was gone?”

Michael snorts. Geoff chuckles a little, shakes his head. “This is Gavin. Michael found him. We’re keeping him.”

“He’s harmless,” Ryan says, glancing over at Gavin. “And is _very_ good at following orders.”

“Yeah, for you,” Michael replies easily.

Gavin shifts in his seat, skin going hot as he remembers the little lesson Michael had learned just a few days earlier. Ryan and Michael both smirk, Michael reaching out to place a possessive hand on Gavin’s thigh.

“He’s yours tonight, if you want him,” Geoff says to Ray.

Ray looks at Gavin. “If it’s agreeable to him. Is it?”

Gavin looks at Geoff before it occurs to him that Ray is speaking _to_ him, instead of _around_ him. He looks back at Ray, startled. “Whatever you want, sire,” he manages.

Ray frowns. “Have they actually had a conversation with you outside of sex?” he asks, shooting an accusing look at the other kings.

Gavin looks around helplessly. He doesn’t want to answer – doesn’t want to get in trouble – but it seems that all the other kings are looking sheepishly at each other, at their food, or, in Ryan’s case, thoughtfully at Gavin.

“That’s what I thought,” Ray says with a sigh, then looks at Geoff – their leader, Gavin thinks, the one with the most influence on the others. “You realize he’s a _person_ , right? You may fuck him like a toy, but he is in fact a living, breathing _person_ with thoughts and feelings.”

Gavin… has no idea what to do with this. Getting too chummy with the kings isn’t exactly part of the plan, but he _does_ miss conversation that had nothing to do with sex. He supposes that Ray has a good point, but he’s getting tired of people talking _about_ him.

“I’m alright,” he says, startling them all. “Be nice to talk about the weather or something, though.”

“There you go,” Ray says. “Gavin, with me.”

He’s mostly done with his food anyway. Gavin gets up, follows Ray out of the hall and up stairs, down winding corridors, until they reach what Gavin assumes is Ray’s chambers. There are dust covers on the sofas and chairs, but Ray shoos the servants out with a wave of his hand and a murmured goodbye.

Gavin watches him carefully, stands by the door – people underestimate him, he knows, think his lack of grace translates to inobservance, when in fact there is very little that Gavin misses. He sees the way that Ryan’s jaw clenches whenever he defers to Geoff, knows well the barely held-back rage within Michael. There’s a lot to learn from the way that Ray’s hand trails over the back of the sofa, like a return to an old friend.

That’s what Gavin’s here for, anyway. To observe and have an, albeit unplanned, good time doing it.

“You’re sharp,” Ray says, and it takes Gavin a moment to realize that Ray has been watching him _back_ , every bit as sharp-eyed as Gavin. “Lithe. A thief, I’ll bet, and an… archer?”

Gavin is startled, and works hard not to let it show. “An unpracticed one,” he admits. “Don’t think the other kings would take a bow in my hand very well.”

Ray breathes out a frustrated sigh, nostrils flaring. “They… lose themselves, sometimes. In the… power.”

Power being immortality, Gavin thinks. But then, he’s not supposed to know that. He understands more than they think he does, he knows.

Ray, though, is looking at him again, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “You’re sharp,” he says again. “Like a hawk, aren’t you? You see everything.”

There’s something about King Ray that Gavin’s heard over the years. Words like ‘seer’ get thrown around, and Gavin’s never put much stock into them. He’s always thought that Ray’s just knowledgeable, knows people, knows how they react – like Gavin. Standing here, though, under Ray’s scrutiny… he’s beginning to wonder if there’s not some level of truth to the rumors.

He’s nervous. It feels like everything he’s worked towards is going to fall apart under that gaze.

“Strip and get on the bed,” Ray says, unclasps his cloak and lets it fall to the floor. “On your back, hands above you.”

Gavin scrambles to do as he’s told – there’s something about Ray, something like a dark undertone that has Gavin desperately wanting to be good for him. Don’t get him wrong, he wants to be good for Ryan and Michael and Geoff, too, but not the same way that he wants to be good for Ray. It’s like Ray _demands_ obedience, simply with a look. Like Ray is the one who wears royalty like a cloak. Of course, Gavin knows, Ray was born noble (albeit quite a few centuries ago), and so he’s always had the best there is. Why should he expect anything less?

Gavin strips and situates himself on the bed, eyes finding Ray and breath catching.

The man is surprisingly muscled underneath his clothes, lithe like Gavin is, stripping down to his smallclothes, and then, with a smirk in Gavin’s direction, stripping them off.

He grabs a vial of oil as he comes toward the bed, and Gavin spreads his legs in response. He’s started to crave this feeling of being full, of being fucked into and used, but Ray just chuckles and shakes his head.

“Something different tonight, thief,” Ray says. “Keep your hands above you. No touching, am I understood?”

“Yes, sire,” Gavin replies, brow furrowed in confusion.

Ray climbs gracefully onto the bed and straddles Gavin, leans down and presses their lips together. Gavin opens his mouth, pliant and needy – the king tastes like _chocolate_ of all things, decadence and luxury all in one, and now that Gavin’s thinking about it, he can smell it on Ray’s breath as well. He wonders, briefly, if it was a gift from wherever he’s been. He wonders if he could earn some.

“If you’re very good for me, we’ll see,” Ray murmurs, and Gavin flushes as he realizes he’s said that last little bit, maybe more, aloud.

That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this… arrangement. He’s losing himself a little too much at times. It’s dangerous, to say the least.

Ray lets out a gasp, and Gavin looks at his face, confused – the man doesn’t seem to be in pain, instead his face is twisted into… pleasure? It’s then that Gavin realizes that Ray’s reached behind him, and a little moan escapes him as it occurs to him exactly what Ray is doing.

“I’ll teach you this,” Ray says, a breathy promise. “I’ll teach you how to fuck me just the way I like, little thief. Another day – I’m too impatient right now.” Another moan escapes him, punctuating his sentence, and Gavin’s fingers twitch as he twines them together. He doesn’t want to disobey Ray, but gods, does he want to _see_ , watch Ray fuck his fingers into himself.

He drops his head back against the pillow, closes his eyes, tries to gain control of himself before he steps out of line. A hand closes around his dick and they shoot back open once more, dropping down to see Ray coating him in slick.

“Remember what I said,” Ray says, warning. “No touching, Gavin.”

Gavin groans as Ray sinks down on top of him, slow and catching, the feel of him _exquisite_ around Gavin’s cock. Ray’s breath catches, and he stills for a moment before he rocks, almost experimentally. Gavin can’t help the little jerk his hips give, and Ray’s hand shoots out, curling in Gavin’s hair.

“Don’t move,” Ray says, voice rough. “You’ll take what I give you and nothing more.”

“Y-yes, my lord,” Gavin manages, grips his own fingers tightly. “I’ve just… I’ve never…”

Something in Ray’s face softens at that. “I suppose you haven’t,” he says. “It _is_ hard to image Ryan rolling over for anyone but Geoff.”

A moan breaks free of Gavin’s tongue at the image of King Geoff fucking into Ryan, the way that he does Gavin, all heavy-handed control and emotion. Ray smirks, rolls his hips again, and Gavin lets out a noise that can’t even be _human_.

“But Michael… Michael will lay down for the both of them. I’ve seen him between the two, little thief, and he’s gorgeous.” Ray lifts his hips and drops down again, and Gavin sees stars.

The image of Michael, needy and desperate, spitting curses and clawing at Ryan’s back, doesn’t help him.

“Don’t come,” Ray warns. “I need you hard to take what I want.”

Over the weeks, Gavin has gotten pretty damn decent at holding off. This, though, this will test his resolve and endurance, he thinks. Sweat’s already sticking his hair to his forehead, and Ray reaches down, brushes his hair away.

“You can do this, Gavin,” Ray murmurs, all soft again, and it’s uncanny, how Ray can go from hard to soft in just a moment. “You can do this for me, be a good boy.”

He starts a rhythm, then, fucking himself on Gavin’s cock. Eventually Gavin has to grab at the blankets – can’t keep holding his own hands lest he dislocate a finger or dig his nails in to draw blood. Ray’s pace is unhurried but steady, like he’s enjoying the feeling of being full and, well, Gavin can relate. The squeeze of him is like nothing Gavin’s ever felt before, tight and warm almost being too much, and he finds himself desperately trying not to come. Trying not to disappoint Ray.

“Look at you,” Ray murmurs, picks up the pace a little, adjusts himself and slides down again – this time a look of pure pleasure crosses his face. “Gods, right there… Move, Gavin.”

Gavin lets his hips buck up, testing, and Ray lets out a moan.

“Good, good boy,” Ray manages with a little gasp. “Just like that. Again.”

Gavin obeys, fucks up again, this time with a little more power behind it. Ray reaches down, finds Gavin’s hand, and curls their fingers together.

“Again, Gavin,” Ray hisses out. “Fuck me, make me come.”

Gavin whimpers a little, obeys as best he can – rolls his hips up into Ray again and again, and Ray rolls back to meet him. Finally, Ray is stiffening, fingers tightening on Gavin’s as he arches his back and comes, white splattering across Gavin’s chest.

Gavin stills, watches as Ray’s eyelashes flutter as he comes down, grip on Gavin easing up. Then, he looks down at Gavin, and fuck, he looks _radiant_ like this – flush high on his cheeks and sweat on his chest. He rolls his hips again, holds Gavin’s gaze.

“Take what you need,” he murmurs.

Gavin lets out another inhuman noise and fucks up into him only a few times before he’s coming, pressing his head back into the bed, holding onto Ray’s hands for dear life as he rides his orgasm out like a high.

“Good boy,” Ray murmurs, sounding distant and far away. “So fucking pretty like this, Gavin. Good boy.”

Gavin comes down slowly – when he comes back to himself, Ray’s curled up beside him and his chest is clean. He vaguely recalls Ray sliding away from him to get a rag from a drawer nearby.

“There you are,” Ray says with a little smile. “What kind of books do you like? Geoff mentioned in one of his letters that you read often.”

Gavin blinks. “There’s not much else to do,” he admits. “I don’t often get to leave the kings’ chambers… unless it’s to go to another king.”

“We’ll change that,” Ray says. “There’s a whole castle to see. You and I can explore later. After a nap.”

It sounds… nice, Gavin thinks. He wants to see things other than beds, he realizes, has been in a haze of sex and obedience for weeks now. It’s also more than a little terrifying – he doesn’t know how Ray will respond to anything just yet, doesn’t have a guess as to what’s outside the kings’ quarters and the Great Hall.

“Can Michael come?” he finds himself asking before thinking, and blushes a deep red when he realizes what he’s requested.

Ray smiles at him. “Yes, little thief. We’ll see what kind of trouble we can find.”

Gavin’s already found trouble, he thinks. He might be in over his head.


	6. Turn of the Night I (Geoff/Gavin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST. ANGST EVERYWHERE.

Gavin considers leaving.

The thing is, he _could_ slip away, unnoticed until he was in the wind, never to be seen again. He had let himself be caught the first time – wanted to know what it was like, what _they_ were like. They’re amazing, is the problem, power and glory and immortality shining bright like stars. That’s what they are, Gavin thinks one night – they’re stars fallen from the skies themselves and shoved into bodies that barely contain them. Light always threatens to break through the cracks and consume everything around it. They’re mighty, they command in ways that he could only dream of.

He doesn’t belong here, but he desperately wants to stay.

 

Geoff’s had him for three nights. Gavin has gone nocturnal, it seems, sleeping from dawn until he’s woken at dinner, mostly thanks to Geoff’s sudden insatiable sexual appetite. Geoff can’t seem to get enough of him – as soon as he’s in the room, Gavin’s spread open and used, fingers, tongue, or cock fucking him open. Halfway through the second night, he’d screamed himself hoarse on Geoff’s relentless fingers, until Geoff had finally, _finally_ , seated him on his cock and let him come.

The thing is, though, that Geoff is… dark. It’s as though a cloud follows him into the room every night when he comes to where Gavin lays in his bed. He’s not the laughter and light that he usually is, the smirk isn’t there on his face until well into Gavin’s pleading.

Gavin wants to ask, but he’s not sure it’s his place.

Tonight, though, Geoff is even darker than he’s been. Gavin can tell from the way that Geoff storms in, closing the door behind him and just _looking_. There’s still no smirk on his face, but there’s a light in his eyes – Gavin can’t tell if it’s a dangerous spark or not.

“On your back on the bed,” Geoff says – no greeting, no asking how Gavin is feeling. Definitely dangerous, then, Gavin thinks, and scrambles up from the sofa to obey.

Geoff overtakes him before he reaches the bed, lifts him around the waist and tosses him to the bed, eliciting a squeak from him. He’s on Gavin in an instant, teeth and tongue working their way into Gavin’s mouth, licking him open until Gavin is shaking and breathless. One hand reaches up and rips the crown from his head, flinging it across the room – it hits the wall with the clink of metal, and Gavin worries for it for a moment before Geoff is biting his way down Gavin’s throat.

“Sire!” Gavin gasps out when Geoff’s teeth find his nipple – there’s no preamble, just the sudden feeling of almost-too-much on his left, Geoff’s hand coming up to worry the right.

“Geoff,” the king corrects him, lifts his head from Gavin’s chest, and _oh,_ his eyes are _dark_ , blown black. “I’m no king tonight.”

“Geoff,” Gavin tries, and though he’s said it before, he’s never said it between them. It feels like the first time he’s ever said it, and from the way that Geoff’s face softens, it sounds like the first time to him as well.

Gavin forgets himself. He reaches up and cards a hand through Geoff’s hair, and the king leans into it for a moment, eyes closing. Gavin cups his cheek and wonders, briefly, if there is any way that he can quell this deep darkness inside of his king.

His king. He’s in so deep.

The moment is lost when Geoff’s eyes open again, and the darkness there threatens to swallow Gavin whole. He thinks this is what it means to be immortal, to be constantly surrounded by death and know that you will never find that peace. Gavin is _young_ compared to these kings, just a century old compared to their millennia, and it’s never been more apparent that he doesn’t belong.

They don’t know him. But maybe he can use that to his advantage – maybe he can soothe this.

“What do you need?” Gavin asks, and it feels like he’s offering himself up for sacrifice. Maybe that’s all he’s ever been – a sacrifice to vengeful, immortal gods.

Geoff considers him for a moment. “To ruin something beautiful.” Then he’s gone, off the bed and reaching for the drawer beside it. He draws out the black ties that Gavin is so familiar with, and Gavin immediately lifts his hands to be tied together. Geoff shakes his head. “Roll over.”

He ties Gavin’s hands behind his back, rope crossing over his skin firmly, but not too tight. He’s been doing this forever, Gavin knows, and he trusts Geoff to take care of him, even in this destructive state. Geoff pulls him up to his knees by the back of his collar, one arm around his waist, so that Gavin’s back is pressed to Geoff’s front. Geoff’s lips find his neck and climb slowly, kissing as they go, to reach Gavin’s ear.

“If I…” Geoff trails off. “If I become too much, or too rough, stop me.”

Geoff has no idea what Gavin is capable of, but the sentiment is sweet. Gavin lets it hang in the air for a moment, enjoying the gentleness. “I trust you,” he says, finally, and it’s terrible and true.

“You shouldn’t,” Geoff replies, and wraps his fingers around Gavin’s cock. “I can destroy you. I can destroy everything, I have before. I broke it down and built it up again, better.” He works Gavin over as he talks, and the pain in his voice is a strange juxtaposition to the pleasure building in Gavin’s belly. “And you… you’re so good, Gavin, you just roll over and _take_ what I give you, like you’re so grateful. You look at us like we can do no wrong, Gavin, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

And suddenly, Gavin knows what Geoff needs more than anything else, more than the feel of a body against his, more than the control he gets when he fucks Gavin.

“You’re a good man, Geoff,” Gavin says softly.

“Don’t make me gag you.”

“That won’t change anything. You’ll still be a good man.”

He’s suddenly shoved into the bed, face down and arms tied behind his back. Gavin turns his head to the side, can see Geoff reaching for the vial of oil. Soon, there’s a finger circling his hole before driving deep – he’s not as gentle as he usually is, fucking into Gavin roughly. He adds another finger too soon, and Gavin revels in the stretch, loves the little bit of pain that comes along with it.

“I took you,” Geoff says, twisting his fingers, and Gavin gasps, rocking back onto them. “I took you and I made you our gods-damned _slave_. Look at you, gods, I turned you into a slut for it, stole your virtue without a second thought.” Gavin whimpers as Geoff fucks him, fingers driving deep and hard. “And you dare lay there under me and tell me that I’m a good man? After I forced you to stay, after I chained you to my bed, after we used you again and again, you tell me that I am a good man?”

“You are,” Gavin gasps. “You’re a good man, Geoff Ramsey.” He rocks back onto Geoff’s fingers as best he can, curls his own against themselves.

“And still,” Geoff says, pulls his fingers away, and Gavin whines. “Still I won’t grant you your freedom. I’ll take your year, I’ll take every inch you have, sweet bird.”

The slide of his cock into Gavin is familiar, yet breathtaking all the same. Gavin wants to claw at the blankets, press back onto Geoff’s cock, but he can’t move between the weight of Geoff’s body and his position on the bed. He has to lay and take it, knees under him and arse presented like a sacrifice.

He bottoms out and stops, lets Gavin breathe, and stays still right up until Gavin is making desperate little rocking motions, trying to get Geoff to move.

“You know what I think?” Geoff says, presses a kiss to one of the knobs on Gavin’s back. “I think you love this. I think you’re overwhelmed, I think you _like_ being owned. Did we tame you, thief?”

“Yes!” Gavin says, strangled and desperate. Geoff moves then, fucks into Gavin nice and slow, like he’s going to take his time, and Gavin wants to cry.

“Do you like being owned?”

“Yes,” Gavin gasps out, something close to a sob.

“Being _used_?”

“Fuck,” Gavin whimpers. “Yes, Geoff, please.”

Geoff grips Gavin’s hips and drives in deep, once, twice, then stops. “Do you still think I’m a _good fucking man_ , Gavin?”

Gavin breathes. “ _Yes_ ,” he says, with feeling, and then lets out a cry as Geoff snarls and fucks into him.

It’s hard and fast, and Gavin loses himself a little, falls into that grey space where everything is good. Geoff drags him back up with nails down his back, makes him arch and gasp, and then Geoff is hauling him up by his shoulders. He’s suspended, dependent on Geoff to hold him up, forced to take whatever Geoff is willing to give him, and it’s good, it’s so good.

Gavin forgets, for a moment, that’s he’s one foot out the door. He forgets that he doesn’t really belong here, forgets that this arrangement is built entirely on a lie. There’s just the two of them, and Gavin knows that Geoff won’t hurt him, knows that Geoff will care for him, even with the darkness looming behind his eyes and threading through his voice.

Geoff yanks him down, suddenly, grinding deep into him. He bites at Gavin’s shoulder as he comes, fingers gripping skin hard enough to bruise. Gavin whines a little, needs something to get him off. Finally, Geoff reaches around, wraps a hand around Gavin’s cock and pumps him, hard, until Gavin’s coming with a shout of Geoff’s name.

Not “sire,” Geoff’s _name_.

Geoff unties him and lays him down on the sheets, curls around him and strokes his skin. He’s going to want another go, Gavin knows, and he’s giving Gavin time to catch up – doesn’t know that Gavin doesn’t need the time, has the same ability as Geoff to keep going.

Everything is built on a lie.

Gavin’s eyes are closed as he breathes, and he can feel Geoff shifting to study him – the king probably thinks that he’s asleep, and his grip becomes lighter as he strokes Gavin’s hip.

“Stay with me,” Geoff whispers.

Gavin’s heart aches.


	7. Turn of the Night II (Geoff/Gavin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Gavin's secrets is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHELP.
> 
> For those interested, I'm doing a little contest [on my blog. ](http://jellyfish-fic.tumblr.com/post/143694938390/wanna-win-a-custom-fanfic)

They fuck again, this time slower. This time, Geoff cups Gavin’s cheek and looks him in the eyes as he rocks deep into Gavin, draws his hand down the side of Gavin’s face and neck to play with the collar there. This time, Gavin moans Geoff’s name with wild abandon, drags him in by his neck and presses their lips together. It would almost seem as though they were lovers, to an outsider looking in.

It is too good to last.

 

The message comes in the late afternoon. There’s a knock at the door, a strong one, before it’s being pushed open anyway. Geoff sits up as Gavin stirs, half-awake, barely recognizing anything beyond the voices – Ryan, speaking in low, hushed tones, and Geoff’s murmuring responses beside him.

Then someone is shaking him, none-too-gently, and he’s opening his eyes to Geoff’s piercing gaze.

“Gavin,” Geoff says, and his voice is low and serious. “There’s a messenger asking for a Lord Gavin Free. Is that you?”

Gavin gasps – a body-heaving, sharp intake of breath – and jolts upright, scrambling for clothes. He’s got to get away, got to get out before they realize his secret, that he’s… that he can’t…

The room spins.

There are suddenly strong hands on his shoulders, forcing him back to sitting on the bed. One moves to his hair, gripping, the pain drawing him away from the spinning enough that he can realize he’s not breathing.

“Breathe, Gavin.” It’s Ryan. Ryan’s issued an order, and Gavin needs to obey it, and so he sucks in a breath and blows it out, and then does it again. “Good.”

It’s only when Gavin’s actually breathing again, effortlessly and without thinking about it, that Geoff asks again. “Are you Gavin Free?”

“Yes,” Gavin says, barely a whisper. Normally he’d be _proud_ , boastful to be the leader of the Freemen, but here, in this room… he only wants to be a treasured pet again. A consort. “I…”

“You weren’t going to tell us,” Geoff says, voice quiet and calm in a way that makes Gavin want to beg for forgiveness.

“No,” Gavin admits, and Ryan’s hands leave his shoulders.

“Why would you?” Ryan says softly. “A Freeman is synonymous with a thief. A murderer.”

Gavin’s head shoots up. “Not anymore,” he says quickly. “We help people.”

“That’s beside the point,” Geoff says. “The point is that there’s a messenger here, and he’s asking for you.”

 

The messenger is a man that Gavin knows only barely, a man known for his sparkling eyes and quick wit. He catches Ryan’s eye, he notices, and tries not to feel jealousy creep on him. It helps that the man – Jon, Gavin’s mind supplies – immediately drops to one knee upon Gavin entering the small meeting room.

“My lord,” Jon says when he rises again. He looks almost nervous.

“I told you not to come,” Gavin says quietly, but not accusingly. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Lord Gruchy.”

Something seizes at Gavin’s heart, like a fist wrapping around it. “Dan? Is he hurt?”

Jon nods. “There was a Creeper attack. Unexpected. They’ve rallied their numbers and move to attack again.”

Gavin hesitated. He didn’t _want_ to go back, not yet. He had six months, still, damn it all, wanted every inch that he could take from them before they sent him away. _It was too soon_ , his soul cried out in anguish.

His men needed him. _Dan_ needed him.

“You can’t leave tonight,” Geoff says quietly, his voice authoritative even though it’s soft. “We’ll give you a horse in the morning and find a place for your man tonight.”

Ryan immediately turns away from where he’s been standing regally nearby – a tall, imposing figure dressed in all black with a stormy expression. “Find this man a bed,” he says to a guard. He sounds, Gavin thinks, like he’s trying not to yell, like he’s trying to restrain himself – Gavin’s never seen the madness this close to the surface before.

The gratitude is clear on Jon’s face, and he inclines his head to show as much. His men don’t bow to anyone but him, Gavin knows, will flat-out refuse in the face of death, and for a moment Gavin wants to scream at Jon to show Ryan the respect he deserves. He doesn’t, holds himself together by the skin of his teeth, and wonders what they’ll do with him – if they’ll take him upstairs or send him into one of the empty chambers. He wonders if they even want him now that they know the truth.

“Gavin, with me,” Geoff says, and his voice sounds heavy, like he has to pick it up off the floor and drag it around with him.

Gavin obeys without a second thought, only turning back when Jon calls out after him.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, with the bare bones of a tired smile, and Gavin musters up a smile in return.

 

Ryan doesn’t follow them. It’s just Gavin and Geoff and silence, eating at the air until it feels like there is none left, like Gavin can’t breathe again.

Gods, but this isn’t how he wanted this to end, if he ever wanted it to end at all.

To his surprise, they return to Geoff’s rooms. It seems like it’s been days since he’s been there, even though it’s barely been more than an hour, and Gavin wants nothing more than to crawl between the covers and lay himself out as an offering. He’s not sure it’s allowed. He’s not sure it’s _wanted_.

Silence, like a heavy weight, turns from the air and begins to eat at Gavin instead.

“Geoff, I-“

“I don’t want to hear it,” Geoff says sharply, pausing where he’s begun to pour himself a glass of wine. “Whatever apologies or explanations you have, I don’t want them. Keep your damnable secrets.”

Gavin shuts his mouth.

“Get naked and get on the bed,” Geoff orders, voice gone quiet again. “You still wear my collar tonight.”

A blossom of relief unfurls in his chest, and Gavin goes through the movements of stripping methodically, climbing on the bed and crossing his arms overhead the way that Geoff likes. Geoff shakes his head, stripping as he walks over to join Gavin, grabbing for the vial of oil along the way.

“Not like that, not tonight,” he says, and Gavin gives him a curious glance. Geoff taps his flank. “Up, let me lay down.”

Gavin moves as he’s requested, though he’s confused, sits up to his knees and lets Geoff take his place. The king settles back against the covers and pillows, and Gavin suddenly understands. Like Ray, then, like Ray rides him.

Geoff slicks up his cock and beckons to Gavin, who scrambles up the bed and moves to sink down onto him. He doesn’t want the foreplay or the preparation tonight – still open from the past few nights that Geoff’s had him.

It’s almost like a sob is torn out of him as Geoff slides inside, as he realizes that this could very well be the last time. It won’t, he swears to himself. It won’t be the last time, there is so much that they don’t _know_.

“Hush,” Geoff says, more like a rumble than anything, draws his hand up to cup Gavin’s cheek. It’s like they’re lovers, and Gavin supposes that they have been, supposes that he’s been allowed to see more of these kings than many have in centuries. “Hush, little bird.”

He rolls his hips and Gavin keens, arches his back – he can feel _everything_ from where he’s seated, can feel the way that Geoff’s muscles strain in his thighs, Geoff’s nails digging into his hip.

“Geoff,” Gavin breathes, and Geoff shifts, dragging Gavin closer to press their chests together. Gavin buries his nose in Geoff’s neck and breathes deep, realizes that Geoff is doing the same with his hair. Gavin breathes his name again, arches into it as Geoff slides his nails down Gavin’s back.

He comes too fast, curled up in Geoff the way that he is, and Geoff comes soon after. They don’t move for a long moment, but finally Geoff shifts. They don’t speak, either, laying down and curling into each other again, the line of their bodies pressed together beneath the sheets. The night moves and turns around them, until the morning light begins to barely shine through, and Gavin’s heart begins to steadily drop like a heavy weight.

Geoff’s fingers skirt over the skin of his shoulders, then drag over the golden collar around Gavin’s neck. He hears the quiet click, and then he’s free of the weight – he feels like crying, like begging for it to be put back.

“Fly, little bird,” Geoff murmurs, voice rough and low. “Before I’m not able to let you leave.”

It’s an order. Gavin obeys.


	8. After This (Ryan/Michael/Gavin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Michael go to claim what's theirs.

The castle is quiet and somber. The servants, ever watchful, whisper quietly to each other in the corners and the alcoves. They mean to keep their gossip secret, of course, but Ryan has his ways of finding out what’s being said, usually in the form of a pretty, chatty maid, eager to please her handsome king.

(There would have been a day, Ryan thinks ruefully, that he would have taken her to bed, but those days are no more. Now, he wants only one thing – the comfort of his – no, _their_ – little bird, pressed against him and heaving in need.)

The rumor mill of the castle churns with the sudden departure of Lord Gavin Free. Some are in shock that the kings’ consort had turned out to be noble in his own right, while others shudder at the thought that a Freeman had been lurking unknown so close to their beloved kings.

“They’re thieves, your majesty,” the maid tells Ryan. “My own mother always told me that bad children get taken away by them in the night. They’re murderers, heartless men.”

“No,” Ryan says without thinking. “Not anymore, they help people.”

And then, when he realizes what he’s said, hears the ghost of Gavin through his own voice, he finds that his heart _aches_.

And Ryan thinks to the pretty blue-eyed man ( _Jon_ , his traitorous mind supplies) who’d rode overnight out of nothing but loyalty, who’d refused to bow to anyone. Except Gavin, and oh, but Ryan’s hackles had raised at that, an urge to _force_ the man to kneel at his feet in respect.

Ryan thinks to Gavin, thinks to the man who now obeyed him without a second thought, and finds that he has trouble reconciling their little bird with a Freeman Lord. He wonders, then, what else Gavin is hiding.

“ _I told you not to come_ ,” Gavin had said to his man, and the wheels in Ryan’s head had begun to turn. This was planned, then – his captivity, his closeness to the kings. What else lurks beneath the surface? What else has Ryan missed? It feels as though something is eluding him, and it rankles him. He hadn’t felt this powerless in centuries, not since he was alone and wondering if he was the only man in the world who couldn’t stay dead.

And suddenly, he understands.

 

Geoff is despondent at best.

Ryan knows the reasons – knows that he’s had Gavin alone for almost a week, knows that he’d planned on a few days more. The anniversary of Griffon’s death is only a day away, after all, and with Gavin gone, the chances of the High King crawling into a bottle are very high.

“Ryan, let him be gone,” Geoff says when Ryan tells him of his plan. “Our bird has flown away.”

“And I intend to bring him back,” Ryan says. He doesn’t have time for a morose Geoff – he needs to be riding, needs to be following Gavin. “I’m not asking your permission.”

Geoff eyes him, annoyed. “Of course you aren’t, you stubborn ass. I often imagine that if I _could_ die, it would be at your hands so that you could claim my title.”

“I’m much too fond of you,” Ryan says, and watches as his casual admission takes its effect on Geoff. The High King’s eyes widen briefly, and then soften.

“He’s changed you,” Geoff says quietly. “He’s changed all of us, hasn’t he? Michael is tempered, Ray is _grounded_ … and you, you’re -”

“His place is here.” And that’s all Ryan plans to say on the matter, given that he’s already admitted that he’s _fond_ of Geoff. “I ride out as soon as my horse is ready.”

“I can’t go with you,” Geoff says, and sounds regretful. “We still have a kingdom to run, after all.”

“Michael will.” Ryan knows this, just like he knows that Gavin will come back with them, that the sky is blue and the grass is green. “Geoff, there are things that need to be put in place for the Freemen.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Ryan holds out his hand, and Geoff grips his forearm tightly for a moment. “Bring him home,” Geoff says, and when Ryan looks at him, really looks at him, he sees that spark that he recognizes as the sheer determination that built a kingdom.

 

Ray is waiting for him when he returns to his rooms to change into his riding clothes. Ryan would be irked if it were anyone else, but he’s always had a soft spot for Ray. The younger king rises from the sofa when Ryan enters, cocks his head and studies Ryan. (And that, the feeling of being scrutinized, used to unnerve and annoy him. Oh, how Ryan’s changed from the bloodthirsty loner he once was, he’s beginning to realize.)

“You’re going after him,” Ray says with surety. “Good.”

He reaches, and that’s when Ryan sees the wrapped package still on the sofa, covered in leathers.

“Take this to him for me.” Ray holds it out, and Ryan takes it, opening the leathers. “He’ll need it.”

It’s a bow, carved from dragonbone, beautiful and priceless. Ryan is almost jealous for a moment, until he remembers that he’s really no archer, prefers the sword to the bow any day.

“This is beautiful,” Ryan says. “You had this made for him?”

Ray nods, quick and sharp. “See that it makes it there for me.”

And then Ray leaves, and that’s that, Ryan supposes, another little piece of proof that Gavin has all of them wrapped around his finger.

 

Ryan expected some obvious indicator of Michael’s rage. He did not, however, expect the room to look as though it had been ransacked – furniture overturned, dishes broken where they had been thrown against the wall. Michael is in the middle of it all, seated on the only chair that is upright, glaring as Ryan walks in.

“What,” Michael snaps out.

“I’m going after him,” Ryan says, and Michael’s entire expression changes, and suddenly the king looks as young as he appears to be, as though the centuries have just fallen away.

“I’m going with you,” Michael says, standing.

“Of course you are,” Ryan says, “your horse is already ready.”

 

They reach the Freeman camp on the night of the second day of riding. It’s honestly bigger than Ryan expected – apparently the Freeman have grown immensely in number since the last time that they gathered any intelligence on them. Their arrival is apparently somewhat of a surprise. They find themselves surrounded by swords before they can even dismount their horses.

Ryan holds out a hand to Michael, staying the man’s snarl and move to draw his own sword.

“They’re not here to harm us,” a familiar voice says, and when Ryan looks up, he sees the pretty blue-eyed man that had ridden to the castle. “They’re here to help Lord Free.”

Seemingly reluctantly, the Freemen lower their swords. Jon apparently has some sway, and Ryan thinks that, if all goes according to plan, he can use that to his advantage later on. “Thank you,” Ryan says, and dismounts his horse, watching as Michael follows suit.

“We’ll wake him,” Jon replies with another respectful incline of his head.

“No,” Ryan says quickly. “No, just point out his tent, we’ll wake him.”

There’s a knowing twinkle in Jon’s eye as his eyebrows raise and a smirk starts to cross his lips. “Of course. We’ll take care of your horses.” He turns, then, leading the way through the crowd of gathered Freemen, who part before him. The men eye the kings with distrust, but they leave them be, apparently mollified by the idea that they could be there to help their beloved Lord.

Gavin’s tent is no different than the ones around it, save for the fact that it might be slightly bigger. Upon entering, Ryan realizes why – in the center is a map on a table, no doubt for strategizing. Ryan wonders, briefly, how one is supposed to strategize against Creepers.

They’re shadows of men, after all, drawn up from the depths of the Nether, preferred weapons being bombs and potions. Some are good at swordsmanship, though most prefer to attack from the shadows, like thieves in the night.

Ryan thinks he may be able to draw a connection between Gavin and the Creepers, if he were to look hard enough. He doesn’t really want to.

Gavin stirs as they enter the tent, dropping their bags. Michael looks ready to pounce, but Ryan’s hand on his shoulder is enough to hold him back.

“What is it?” Gavin says, voice thick with sleep, rolling over and sitting up, scrubbing at his eyes. He’s bare-chested, and Ryan can see the healing bruises of his last few nights with Geoff, almost gone. “Has something changed?”

“Nothing’s changed,” Ryan says quietly, watching as Gavin stiffens in shock, hands falling away from his face to turn up at them in amazement. “You’re still ours.”

“What…” Gavin manages. “How are you… You _came_.”

Ryan removes his hand from Michael’s shoulder, and the younger king strides forward, shedding his outer clothes as he goes. Gavin watches him, stock still like he’s unable to move, eyes wide.

“Of course we did.” Michael yanks down the furs covering Gavin, straddling him and pressing him down into the pallet. “You think you can get rid of us that easily? That you just get to fly away and that’s that?”

“I thought…” A little gasp escapes Gavin as Michael’s mouth finds his neck.

“You thought we wouldn’t want you,” Ryan supplies. “That somehow we’d cast you away.” He’s slowly shedding his own clothing, knows that he’ll be taking what he wants soon enough.

“You’re _ours_ ,” Michael says, emphatic. He bites down, suckling a mark into Gavin’s skin, and Gavin arches, trying to grind up into where Michael is seated on him.

Ryan, finally down to just his breeches, approaches as well, and considers exactly what’s going to happen on Gavin’s little pallet of furs and blankets. The madness is dark and cloying, and he wants to _push_ , wants to see just how much Gavin can take.

Finally, he settles for kneeling, for curling his hand into Gavin’s hair and pulling, twisting, until Gavin is whimpering and clutching at both Ryan’s and Michael’s thighs.

“You’ve always been ours, haven’t you? From the first day you heard our names, little thief, we _owned_ you,” Ryan murmurs.

“ _Yes_ ,” Gavin hisses.

Michael shifts to the side, hands finding Gavin’s own breeches and untying the laces, pulling them off and away. Gavin’s hard already, well-trained and in tune with them. Ryan drags Gavin forward, onto his knees, and settles behind him, arm curling around his waist to tug him back against Ryan’s chest.

“Stay quiet, Gavin,” Ryan advises. “Your men could hear.”

“Let them,” Michael says. “Let them listen, let them learn what a little whore you are for us.”

“If you want,” Gavin murmurs, cheeks tinged in pink. “A-anything you want, anything at all.”

He’s in over his head, Ryan thinks. Every one of them is wrapped up in Gavin, and he’s just as involved, just as wrapped up in them as well. And, oh, there are things that Ryan wants in this moment, things he wants to ask of Gavin, push him to his limits and then beyond them.

He pulls the madness back sharply, and takes mercy on their little bird.

Michael glances up at Ryan before he pushes Gavin’s legs wider apart and settles between them. Ryan, ever aware of appearances and what they mean, folds his hand over Gavin’s mouth, holding back the little gasps that threaten to truly expose him to his men.

Michael starts slowly, sucking just the tip of Gavin’s cock into his mouth, and Ryan _feels_ the breathy whimper that wants to escape his hand. He tightens his grip as though he can gain control of himself that way, pulling Gavin even closer against him.

“He’s only ever done this for Geoff and I,” Ryan murmurs into Gavin’s ear, reveling in the little shiver that he can feel echo through Gavin’s body. “Only rarely gets on his knees – aren’t you lucky, little whore?” He can hear Michael’s hum, feel the way that Gavin’s body responds by trying to twist and shudder and shiver, unable to move in Ryan’s iron grip. “I know all of your little secrets, Gavin,” Ryan goes on. “Every single one – there’s nothing to hide from me anymore, no more lies to tell.”

Michael pulls off, fingers pressing into Gavin’s thighs to create fresh bruises. “How do we want to do this, Ryan?”

Ryan unwraps his arm from Gavin’s waist, waving it in the direction of the bag. “I have oil,” he says. “You first.”

Gavin shivers again, knows what’s coming, that they plan to use him in quick succession. They’ve done it before, in a myriad of combinations – Geoff and Ryan, Geoff and Michael, Michael and Ryan, even Ray and Ryan once before. He tries to say something, but Ryan’s hand keeps it at bay.

“There are so many things that I want,” Ryan goes back to purring in Gavin’s ear. “I want you bound and naked before my throne. I want you chained to my bed, I want you on the table while the court watches. If I were less concerned about your title, about your nobility, I would have you while every single one of your men looked on.”

Gavin’s breath hitches, and Ryan honestly can’t tell if it’s from his words or from Michael pressing two oil-slick fingers into him. Ryan’s free hand drags down his chest to thumb at the head of his cock, and he can hear little muffled moans.

“What I want is the both of us inside you at once,” Ryan goes on, and Gavin throws his head back against Ryan’s shoulder, cock jumping in Ryan’s hand as his hips try to stutter forward despite Michael’s bruising grip.

“Pity that he has to be able to fight tomorrow,” Michael says, and twists his fingers in an almost cruel manner.

“There will be time to punish him for his lies later.” Ryan feels Gavin swallow, feels the way that he tries to let out a noise of both apprehension and anticipation. “Tonight, though, our darling little bird, you’ll have Michael first, and then me. And if you’re the good little slut that I know you can be, we’ll make sure your men don’t hear a thing.”

Gavin nods quickly, lets out a moan into Ryan’s hand as Michael adds a third finger.

“But you don’t come. Not until you’ve had us both.”

This time it’s Michael who moans, low and barely audible. He pulls his fingers away, and Ryan can feel Gavin’s little whine at the loss.

“I want him on his hands and knees,” Michael says, and Gavin is quick to try and obey.

Ryan pulls away from him, lets the boy roll over and get up to his knees, before he curls his hand back around his mouth. He cards his free hand through Gavin’s hair, and, gods, the boy is soft for them. Soft hair, doe eyes, eager to please, and Ryan thinks that the gods couldn’t have sent them a better gift.

Michael’s own hand curls around Gavin’s hip, the other helping to guide his cock to Gavin’s hole. Ryan can’t stop the keen that escapes Gavin’s throat, and he shushes Gavin.

“Have to stay quiet, Gavin,” Ryan reminds him, and Gavin’s eyes dart up to his face, blown dark and wide. “Unless, of course, you _want_ every person in this camp to know that you’re nothing but a whore and a slut for your kings.”

Michael punctuates the statement for him with a thrust of his hips, and Gavin’s eyes close, panting for it beneath Ryan’s hand.

Then, Michael chuckles, a dark sound. He rolls his hips slowly, hands wrapped around Gavin’s waist to keep him in place, to stop him from moving back into the thrusts and forcing a harder pace.

“Beg for it, Gavin,” Michael says, leaning down to bite at the skin of Gavin’s back.

Gavin’s eyes open again, finding Ryan’s like he’s waiting for Ryan to pull his hand away. Ryan’s not here to make this easy for him, however, raising an eyebrow in a simple “ _on with it_ ” gesture.

A sharp slap to Gavin’s thigh, followed by nails dragging across his skin, and Gavin lets out a muffled yelp. “I gave you a fucking order,” Michael says.

The way that Gavin blushes is intoxicating, Ryan thinks, the way that it spreads down his whole body. It’s less potent, however, than the way that Ryan knows Gavin will obey, even though it embarrasses him, even though it’s hard for him. He’s worked so hard to please them, Ryan is beginning to realize.

There’s a muffled sound behind Ryan’s hand, a word that can’t escape.

“What?” Michael says into the skin of Gavin’s back, rolling his hips in a maddeningly slow pace. Ryan is proud of the younger king’s control for a moment. “I can’t hear you.”

A more desperate sound, then, and a hand coming up to try and pry Ryan’s away so that Gavin can get the words out. Ryan simply tightens his grip, slaps the hand away, staring down at the man trapped between the kings.

Michael laughs, and fucks into Gavin hard, rocking him forward. One hand moves from Gavin’s hip to curl in his hair, holding him in place as he finally takes what Gavin is dying to give. There’s a steady stream of sounds stopped by Ryan’s hand, and there is a stark contrast between the way Michael roughly takes him and Ryan’s gentle fingers skating across the thief’s shoulders.

Michael doesn’t last as long as Ryan knows that he can, no doubt due to the relief of having their boy back. Soon, he’s clutching at Gavin, dragging his nails down his sides. Gavin moans behind Ryan’s hand, shivering, tears at the corner of his eyes that Ryan knows are from holding himself back.

Ryan curls over him, presses his lips to Gavin’s ear. “Stay quiet. Not a sound.”

He pulls his hand away, takes a moment to drag his fingers down Michael’s arm where the king has flopped to the side in the furs, sated for the moment. Gavin, ever obedient, stays exactly where he’s put, on his hands and knees, shaking as Michael’s spend leaks from his ass.

Ryan stands, takes Gavin by the hair and pulls him to his feet as well, shoving him towards the table in the center of the tent.

“That’s my – “ Gavin starts, hesitating, but then Ryan is pressing a hand between his shoulder blades and pushing him down, bending him over the table until his chest is pressed to the map.

“I said be quiet,” Ryan warns, curling one hand around the back of Gavin’s neck. “I thought you were going to be good for me.”

It’s a credit to Gavin that he stays silent at that, instead of protesting or pleading. They’ve trained him so well, and Ryan delivers only one sharp smack to the boy’s ass, listening to the little gasp of air that Gavin sucks in, watches as Gavin struggles to stay quiet.

Ryan slicks his cock, and, in a moment of pure affection, leans down to press a kiss to Gavin’s shoulder. Then, he’s pressing in, and _days_ of waiting, of wanting, are suddenly over. He slides his hand from Gavin’s neck to his mouth once more, dragging the boy up and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” Ryan murmurs, and Gavin gives a tentative little nod, like he’s afraid to admit it. “Did you really think we were just going to let you go? Your year never mattered – you were ours the minute you stepped foot in the castle. We _own_ you, body and heart and soul.” Gavin whimpers, presses back like he’s trying to get Ryan to move, like he can’t pull the king close enough.

It’s the frantic movements that make Ryan finally snap, letting out what can only be described as a growl as he fucks into Gavin, hands tight and bruising on his skin. Gavin, sweet Gavin, takes it like only he can, sounds punched out of him and muffled by Ryan’s hand. He braces himself with one hand on the table and the other curled around Ryan’s arm, like he’s afraid that if he lets go Ryan will simply disappear.

And Ryan realizes that he isn’t going to last long either, relieved to have Gavin in his arms once more, desperate in a way that he hasn’t been in a long time. He drags Gavin up, presses their bodies flush together as he rolls his hips, reveling in the tight heat around his cock.

“We own you,” he says again, in a murmur against Gavin’s neck. “But you, love, you own us too.”

Gavin clenches around him, arching and hands gripping Ryan tight, and Ryan comes, clutching at Gavin and biting down into the soft skin of Gavin’s shoulder.

Ryan gets them to the fur pallet once more, hand still tight around Gavin’s mouth, and it’s only when he’s got Gavin in his lap, back to Ryan’s chest, that he finally peels his fingers away.

“ _Please_ ,” Gavin breathes. “Please, Ryan, Michael, gods.”

Michael crawls toward them, drags Gavin into a kiss as he wraps his hand around Gavin’s cock, pumping with sure, deft movements. It only takes a few moments before Gavin is arching again, one hand flying to Michael’s shoulder and the other curling around Ryan’s thigh, coming without a sound save for a harsh gasp.

Gavin comes down against Ryan’s chest, Michael petting at his neck and shoulders and making soothing sounds that Ryan knows he’s never heard from Michael’s mouth before. Gavin is still shaking, though, still clutching at them like he’s afraid they’re going to simply get up and leave him.

“Shh, Gavin, it’s alright,” Michael says, thumbs swiping Gavin’s cheeks, and it’s then that Ryan realizes that their boy is _crying_.

His arms tighten around Gavin, and he pulls him closer to his chest, one hand coming up to pet soothingly through his hair.

“I thought,” Gavin starts brokenly. “You just _let me go_ , and I thought I’d never…”

“You were always ours,” Ryan murmurs. “We will _never_ let you go.”

It’s a vow and a dark promise, and Gavin is heaving with sobs even as Michael presses his own body close to them.

 

“Lord Free!”

Ryan shoots awake, but it’s Gavin who sits up straight, scrambling out of the tangle of limbs. He pulls on his breeches, lacing them quickly, and reaches for his tunic. Ryan and Michael follow suit, but it’s Gavin who steps outside, quickly dressed and hair mussed.

When he comes back, just as Ryan is buckling his own light armor on, his face is drawn into a grave, tight look. He moves to the map, spreading his hands across it and leaning against it as he studies it.

“Gavin,” Michael starts, but Gavin holds up a hand.

“A moment, just… just a moment, sorry,” Gavin murmurs, eyes never straying from the map.

This, Ryan thinks, is not their little bird. This is a Freeman lord, readying himself for battle.

The tent flap opens again, this time to reveal a man that Ryan’s never seen, walking with a limp and bandages all down his right arm and leg. Gavin looks up at him, expression changing from somber to exasperated.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Gavin says.

“And you’re not supposed to be here,” the man replies.

Michael clears his throat. Ryan smirks a little at the blush that rises in Gavin’s cheeks.

“Dan,” Gavin starts, “this is –“

“The mighty kings,” the man says, eyes going from Gavin to Michael to Ryan. “Yes, I’m aware.” There is no incline of his head, not even the hint of respect from him, and Ryan has to fight the urge to demand it. From the look on Michael’s face, the younger king is of a similar mind.

Ryan looks to Gavin, who swallows and glances down and away. He opens his mouth to speak, but Ryan raises a hand.

From the look on the man’s face, the way that Gavin’s mouth closes irks him.

“You must be Lord Gruchy,” Ryan says.

“I am,” the Freeman says, studying him. “You’ll find, Mad King, that your title means nothing in this camp. While Gavin may have thought it prudent to his personal interests to seek you out, I and many other Freemen will never see you as anything more than another common man, albeit one with a very shiny hat.”

“Dan, enough,” Gavin snaps.

“Contrary to what you may think,” Ryan says, keeps his voice pitched low and dangerous. “ _You’ll_ find that while my title and reputation may mean nothing to you or your men, my sword can speak for itself.”

Michael opens his mouth to add his own thoughts, no doubt a thinly veiled thread, but another man steps through the tent flap in that same moment.

“Creepers spotted to the north, my lords,” the man says. “A small party. We believe they’re scouts.”

“Thank you,” Gavin says, and nods to the man, who bows briefly and turns away. When he leaves, Gavin turns back to the map, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table.

“We expected them from the east, not the north,” Dan says.

“We’ll have to improvise,” Gavin replies, sounding distracted. “There’s this path here, and another here,” he says, pointing to a place on the map. “I can take the best archers, divide them along the sides of the ravine… if we can somehow get the Creepers into the center – “

“We can trap them,” Dan finishes. “I can’t lead,” he adds, sounding regretful and a little ashamed.

Gavin lifts his head then, looking to Ryan and Michael. “Will you?” he asks, and Ryan gives a short nod with no hesitation. To his surprise, Dan hums in agreement.

“We’ll have to work quickly,” Dan says. “If they’re approaching like Jon says…”

“Then we have to do it today.” Gavin’s tone is authoritative, decisive, and it catches Ryan by surprise a little. “Send Jon to gather the archers, you get the men ready to follow Ryan and Michael.” He flinches a little at the names, a small hesitation.

He reaches out his hand, and Dan clasps it tightly. “If we die today,” Dan murmurs.

“We die free men,” Gavin says quietly in response.

Without another glance at Michael and Ryan, Dan limps away and out of the tent. Ryan turns to study Gavin, finds that Michael is doing the same – Ryan thinks that this is the Gavin that they don’t know, the leader and accomplished thief that Ryan’s beginning to learn that he is.

“What was that?” Michael asks. “What you and Dan just said.”

Gavin glances between them, like he’s suddenly nervous, and it occurs to Ryan that he’s not sure how to act at the moment – he needs to be in control, but he desperately wants to submit to them, unsure of himself now.

“It’s a… good luck saying, of sorts,” Gavin explains. “Most of these men have nothing but their freedom. The Freemen, they used to be nothing but murderers and highwaymen.” His face takes on something like a grave look, like he’s suddenly wearing years on his shoulders. “Now, though, we keep the Creepers at bay.”

“Still a few thieves,” Michael says pointedly, gesturing towards Gavin.

Gavin gives a rueful, self-deprecating smile. “I’m the last, I think.”

There’s another secret in that statement, Ryan knows, wrapped up in words and guilt and shame, one that they’ll pry from Gavin when he’s pliant beneath them, safely back in the castle. For now, though, Ryan won’t push it, and with a quick glance to Michael, knows that he won’t either.

Instead, Ryan walks to where he’d dropped his bag the night before, reaching in and pulling out the leather-wrapped packaged. He places it on the table before Gavin, who simply looks at him, confused for the moment.

“From Ray,” Ryan says in explanation, and watches as Gavin picks apart the leather to reveal the dragonbone bow.

He lifts it almost reverently, fingers trailing over the intricate carvings, and Ryan can see wetness in his eyes. He watches as Gavin swallows, clutches the bow tight in his hands.

“After this,” Gavin says softly, “after this, take me home.”

“After this, you may never leave our beds again,” Michael replies with an almost gentle smile.

 

The men aren’t exactly trusting of Michael and Ryan, but they trust Gavin, and so they follow the kings into the ravine. Ryan itches, wants to be able to see Gavin and know that he’s safe, and finally, when he looks up, he sees the archers against the sky, bows poised and ready.

Gavin will be to the left of him, Ryan knows, and picks out the man among the other archers, standing with his bow at the ready.

After this, Ryan promises himself, hand gripping his sword hilt as his horse paws the ground uneasily.

After this.

“If we die!” one man shouts, and then, in unison, the rest reply, “We die free men!” and Ryan thinks he’s beginning to understand.

And then, with a distant explosion, all hell breaks loose.

 

Ryan wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. There’s blood on his cheek and more on his armor, and his blade is practically red with it. He can hear the bloodthirst and the madness coiling within him, rushing through his veins. He can’t lose himself in it, keeps glancing up at to the left to see _his_ archer, _their_ archer still standing tall against the sky.

There’s a hiss to his right, suddenly, and Ryan pivots, sword ready.

The Creeper is a shadowman, dressed in green and black, and his sword, Ryan knows, has been tainted with poison. “Mighty king,” the creature hisses. “I can feel the darkness in you – you’re closer to us than you think.”

Ryan runs him through easily, yanks his blade back and turns to face the next one, only to find that there isn’t a next one, there are fewer and fewer breaking through the swordsmen now. They’ve won this, Ryan knows with sudden clarity.

He finds Michael standing over another Creeper, calmly wiping his blade on the dead shadowman’s cloak. Together, they look up and to the left at the archers, where their bird is still standing proud and tall.

“He looks good,” Michael says. “He would make a good king, I think.”

Ryan smirks. “He will, I think.”

Michael glances at him. “Will? Are we crowning mortals, now?”

Ryan opens his mouth, but before he can get the words out, there’s the sound of an explosion, too close, and the right side of the ravine crumbles as the men below dive to get out of its way. Archers scramble back from the edge, but at least half of their numbers fall.

And then, with dawning horror, Ryan looks to the left.

“No,” Michael hisses, and starts pushing his way through the battlefield. “No!”

The archers are already pulling back from the edge, but Ryan can only watch as Creepers burst from the tree line, crowding them in.

His archer, their beautiful brave Gavin is still silhouetted against the sunlight, and Ryan looks on, heart in his throat, as he draws back his bow, just as the ground beneath him begins to shake and crumble.

“ _No!_ ” he hears Michael cry out, but Gavin is already falling, the entire left side of the ravine exploding around him simultaneously, plummeting to the ground below.

 


	9. Homecoming (Geoff/Gavin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Michael bring their boy home, where Geoff is waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this.

Michael is the first to reach him.

He shoves aside Freemen, breaking through the circle that they’ve formed around Gavin’s broken body. Ryan, shoving his own way through, watches as his face crumples, and he drops to his knees, gloved hand reaching out like he can call Gavin back from the gates of death itself.

“No,” Ryan sees him say more than he hears it. “Not him, gods.”

 _Don’t let me be wrong_ , Ryan prays to gods that he hasn’t prayed to in a long time.

Michael’s shaking hand brushes the dirt and blood away from Gavin’s still face.

Carefully, he reaches, and closes Gavin’s eyes.

Ryan finally breaks through the crowd and kneels beside Gavin as well, his own hands reaching for Gavin’s, splayed out on the hard ground.

“Don’t let me be wrong,” Ryan mutters. “Come on, Gavin. Don’t let me be wrong.”

The moments tick by in silence. Then, finally, Jon comes forward, limping slightly. He gingerly places a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “He died a free man,” he says, in a manner that clearly means that he’s trying to be comforting.

Ryan shakes him off, and doesn’t move.

Michael stands, lifts his eyes to the sky, and when Ryan glances up at him, he can see tear tracks through the dirt and grime on the king’s face. Then, he looks to Ryan, and suddenly Ryan can see the centuries on his face, sees a little of the light dim in his eyes, and knows, _knows_ that if he’s wrong, this could break them.

 _Gods, don’t let me be wrong_ , he prays again, just in case there’s someone out there to hear him. He grips Gavin’s hand a little tighter.

“Ryan,” Michael says. “Ryan, we need to… we need to get him out of here. Get him _home_.” His voice breaks and Michael breathes out a harsh, wet breath. “We said we’d take him home.”

At this, a few of the Freemen step forward, as though to bear the body away, as though to _take Gavin from him_.

Ryan’s on his feet in an instant, sword in his hand.

“Ryan,” Michael says again, almost pleading.

“We’ll take him home when he wakes,” Ryan replies. The Freemen look at each other, a few of them eyeing Ryan in _pity_ , like he’d somehow lost his wits.

Michael is silent for a long moment. “Ryan, he’s not like us,” he finally says. “He won’t come back.” He swallows, takes a step forward. “You told me yourself how fucking fragile he is – was.”

“He’ll come back.” And Ryan drops to the ground once more, takes up Gavin’s hand, and resumes his vigil.

There’s silence around him, and then the same men move forward again, like they plan to force Ryan away.

Ryan’s gaze shoots up, dark, lips curled into a snarl. “ _I will cut you down where you stand!”_ he thunders, and the men take a step back. Even Michael takes a step back, knows the madness firsthand, has witnessed Ryan as the Mad King and worse, so much worse.

“Leave him,” Michael says to the men. “I’ll bear him myself.”

“You won’t take him from me,” Ryan snaps. “No one will, not even you, Michael.”

And then, infuriatingly, Michael’s gaze is tinged with _pity_ , like even he believes that Ryan’s lost his wits, that Ryan is delusional with grief, that Ryan is _wrong_.

Gods, don’t let him be wrong.

He looks down to Gavin, and waits, and prays, and hopes.

A hand on his shoulder again, and he nearly takes it off until he realizes that it’s Michael, having come closer. “Ryan,” Michael says, like he’s desperate for Ryan to understand. “He’s _mortal_. He’s not coming back.”

Suddenly, the quiet is broken by a frantic gasp for air, and when Ryan looks down, Gavin’s eyes are open, staring wide at him. The hand that Ryan is desperately gripping is abruptly gripping _back_ , and something unfurls in Ryan’s chest, some kind of knot that was keeping him from breathing.

“Bloody _fuck_ ,” Gavin whispers, and lifts his hand, reaching for Michael.

Ryan hears what sounds like a sob behind him, and then Michael’s dropping to his knees. The king grasps at the hand Gavin’s held out, pulling him up and close, holding the man to his chest and looking to Ryan as though Ryan can explain everything.

There’s still blood in Gavin’s hair, but Ryan reaches and tangles his fingers in it nonetheless, dragging his head back and pulling him into a desperate, relieved kiss.

 

Gavin’s men don’t know what to do with him now. They bow, eyeing him with something between awe and fear, and Gavin knows this will take time. Kingdoms, after all, aren’t built overnight, or so Ryan says. Dan agrees to take over for the time being, Jon at his side, at least while the kings draft the laws allowing the Freemen into the cities once more, recognizing them as their own entity while still protecting them under the kingdom’s laws.

As he rides away, however, Gavin knows that he won’t be back, that his days of leading the Freemen are behind him now. A different destiny awaits, and sings to him in the shapes of memories of a gold collar heavy around his neck.

Reaching the castle feels like coming home, like Gavin can breathe a sigh of relief. From the way that Michael keeps glancing at him, heat in his gaze, he knows that while everything has changed, the important parts have remained the same. Ryan and Michael can’t say exactly what his role will be now, but they have both assured him that his place is in their beds and at their side.

They reach the castle just before nightfall, and as their horses are led away, Michael’s hand closes tight around Gavin’s wrist and Ryan’s arm curls around his waist.

When they reach Geoff’s chambers, though, they release him. Gavin looks back questioningly, but Ryan merely shakes his head, waving him forward. Michael watches him with dark eyes.

“It’s your secret to tell,” he says, and Gavin understands, realizes then that they won’t stand for anymore lies or secrets between them. Gavin must face this, face _Geoff_ , alone.

Apprehension curls in Gavin’s belly – what if this is the lie that Geoff cannot take? What if he’s seen as some kind of competition, a threat?

He doesn’t knock. He opens the door quietly and slowly, listens to the sounds of Michael and Ryan walking away behind him, and steps into the room. Candles and lamps are lit, there’s a fire in the hearth, and Geoff has his back to the door, concentration on whatever he’s writing. Gavin closes the door behind him, a soft click that echoes through the room.

Geoff pauses, tilts his head as though he’s waiting for something. “Well?” he says, and it occurs to Gavin that he thinks it’s a servant or a messenger.

Gavin opens his mouth, words failing him for the moment. Then, finally, he says the only thing he can manage. “ _Geoff_.”

The king is on his feet in an instant, papers behind him scattering across the desk and to the floor. Geoff pays them no heed, eyes intent on the man still hovering unsure at the door.

Silence stretches between them.

“They brought me home,” Gavin finally says. “Ryan and Michael, they said… they said my place was here, that you would…” He swallows, glances away as insecurity floods through him. “That you would still want me.”

Geoff closes the distance between them, lifts Gavin’s chin to meet his gaze even as he presses him back against the door, chest against chest. “I will always want you,” he says, voice rough like Gavin’s never heard it before. “ _We_ will always want you.”

And then he’s pulling Gavin into a kiss, one that’s almost chaste, almost reverent.

Gavin pulls away. “Wait,” he says, softly, and can feel the ghost of Geoff’s breath across his lips. “There’s something… I have to tell you…”

Geoff’s hands come up to brace against the door, effectively caging Gavin in with his body, intense eyes searching Gavin’s own. “No more secrets, Gavin,” he murmurs. “That’s an order.”

It’s as if those words unlock something within Gavin, and he’s suddenly able to breathe. He’s been given an order, he must obey, it’s no longer in his hands, no longer his responsibility to bear.

“I’m like you,” he says, holding Geoff’s gaze. “I’m a century old, Geoff. I can’t age, and I can’t…. I can’t _die._ ” Geoff says nothing, and so Gavin presses on. “It happened twice when I was younger, a fever first and then they tried to hang me… Ryan and Michael watched me fall from a cliff. I hit the ground, I _died_ , and then… then I came back. It’s as though the gods don’t want to keep me.”

“They can’t have you,” Geoff finally says, voice low and rough. “I’ll keep you here myself if I have to, no god will take you from me.” He surges forward, and this time the kiss is rough and dirty, claiming and possessive. This time, when Gavin pulls away, Geoff growls out “ _No_ ” and pulls him back in, licking his way into Gavin’s mouth.

Geoff finally breaks away, takes a step back. For a moment, Gavin is unsure once more, flushed and panting against the door.

“Strip,” Geoff says, all authority and power, and relief rushes through Gavin’s veins.

Gavin sheds his clothes quickly, drops them in a pile that he can worry about later. Geoff gestures to the bed, and Gavin goes eagerly, crawling onto the soft covers and nearly weeping with the familiarity of it, the knowledge that Geoff will take control. Here, Gavin is no leader, no Freeman, not even a thief. Here, he is simply his kings’.

The bed gives a little as Gavin situates himself - on his back, legs spread, wrists crossed above his head – and Geoff runs his fingers from Gavin’s neck to his groin, skating briefly over his hardening cock before dancing away once more.

“You have a choice to make,” Geoff says, serious enough that Gavin falters, uncertain. “Your place is here – I _won’t_ let you walk away again, Gavin, I’m not capable of it. No matter what you choose, you will always be welcome in my bed, in any of our beds.”

“Geoff,” Gavin says, because it’s the only thing he _can_ say, overwhelmed by the King’s admission.

Geoff tears his eyes away from where his fingers are drawing nonsensical patterns on Gavin’s stomach, meets his eyes. “I didn’t ask before – I gave you an ultimatum, a choice that was no choice at all. And you still called me a good man.”

“You _are_ a good man,” Gavin murmurs. “I wanted to be caught. I needed to know what you were like, if you were like me, I needed to sate this… _obsession_ I had.” His hands come down to grasp Geoff’s, eyes dropping to study Geoff’s fingers. “I had always heard of the kings who were more than men, and I had always wondered. When I was younger… when I was still a thief and a… coward, a murderer in the night, I didn’t deserve to know.” He hesitates, and when Geoff says nothing, he forces himself to go on, quieter. “I still don’t. I’m young, younger than all of you, but I’m _trying_.” It’s all of Gavin’s insecurities, all of his guilt and shame pouring out of him in just a few words, voiced the only way that he can manage.

Geoff’s hand finds his cheek, drags his eyes upward.

“You’re a good man,” the king murmurs, Gavin’s own words against him. “You’re a good man, and we’ll have you any way that you’ll let us.” He trails his fingers down Gavin’s neck again. “I’ll ask, like I should have before. Will you wear my collar? If,” he says quickly, before Gavin can answer. “If you want, I’ll put it away. You’ll still share our beds, but as an equal, no longer as our slave.”

“Geoff,” Gavin breathes, and smiles, soft. “Geoff, my _king_ … Wearing your collar is an honor.”

As Gavin watches, Geoff’s features relax, into something soft before it becomes something familiar – a dark smile, a spark in Geoff’s eyes that goes straight to the heat already low in Gavin’s belly. Then, he stands, walking to the wardrobe, where he reaches into a drawer and pulls out the gold that Gavin has been aching for since the moment it was removed from his neck.

It feels like a weight is lifted from him when Geoff clicks it closed around his throat once more, and Gavin’s eyes flutter as his mind already begins to settle, as his tense muscles begin to relax.

“Perfect,” Geoff murmurs, “Absolutely beautiful. What to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” Gavin breathes.

“What I should do is punish you.” Geoff skates his fingers down Gavin’s chest again, dragging blunt nails down Gavin’s thigh. “For every single lie that you told, every secret you’ve held from us. And you… you could take it, I no longer have to be _gentle_ with you, do I?” Gavin shivers, flush creeping down his chest. “Clever little thief, you had us all fooled that you were some delicate thing.”

A sharp spank to Gavin’s thigh elicits a gasp from him, and Gavin feels himself slip a little more into the grey of his mind. “Sire,” he says. “Sire, please, I can’t…” He won’t last today, he knows, won’t be able to hold himself back even if Geoff commands it.

“Tomorrow, then,” Geoff says, a dark promise. “Tonight, I suppose, is for celebration.”

He stands, reaches for the drawer by the bed, where Gavin knows that he keeps the black ties that he loves so much. Gavin’s hands quickly dart from where they rest at his sides to cross above his head once more.

“Good boy,” the king says, looping the leather ties around Gavin’s wrists, keeping them together, before tying them to the headboard. It’s a short tether, Gavin knows from experience, one that leaves him purely at Geoff’s mercy, and he shivers in anticipation.

He can only watch as Geoff strips himself, drops his clothes to the side of the bed for some maid to pick up later. Then, Geoff is crawling onto the bed once more, the line of his body purely predatory, and he drops his head to nip at the skin of Gavin’s neck.

“Tonight, I want your mouth,” Geoff says, low and dark, the words going straight to Gavin’s dick. “And if you are very, _very_ good for me, I’ll give you a reward that you’ll remember for years.”

It’s a heady promise, and Gavin finds himself nodding before his brain can even really catch up to the words. His mouth is already watering a little – he loves the feeling of Geoff’s cock, heavy on his tongue, pressing back into his throat.

Geoff crawls up his body, knees bracing on either side of Gavin’s chest. “I won’t be gentle,” he says, “but you aren’t as _delicate_ or _fragile_ as we thought, are you?” Gavin doesn’t answer, and Geoff’s eyes narrow a little before he gives Gavin a none-too-gentle smack on the cheek, drawing a gasp from him. “Are you?”

“No, sire,” Gavin says quickly.

“Can you take what I give you?” Geoff asks, one hand drifting down to his own cock to stroke it languidly. Gavin’s eyes track the movements hungrily. “And be grateful for it? _Honored_?”

“ _Gods_ ,” Gavin breathes. “Yes, sire, _please_.”

“Good boy,” Geoff praises, and then he’s leaning forward, one hand on his cock and the other bracing against the headboard as he guides it to Gavin’s lips. Gavin’s lips part eagerly, tongue darting out to wet them, but Geoff stops just short of sliding between them, instead dragging the slick head of his cock across Gavin’s lips.

Slowly at first, he feeds Gavin his cock, slides into the wet heat and basks in it. Gavin takes it readily, eyelids fluttering as he lets out a little moan that has Geoff clenching his fingers on the headboard. Geoff’s other hand leaves his cock to tangle in Gavin’s hair, dragging the boy’s head up as far as he dares to without straining his neck.

“You were _made_ for this,” Geoff hisses out, and Gavin hums in agreement, sucking. The hand on the headboard comes down to entwine itself in Gavin’s fingers. “You remember what to do if I’m too rough?”

Gavin hums again, squeezing Geoff’s fingers three times in quick succession, a demonstration.

Geoff nods. “Good boy,” he says, and watches as Gavin practically glows at the praise, cheeks turning pink. “I want you choking on my cock, desperate for it, not passing out around it.”

And gods, but Gavin wants that, to choke on Geoff’s cock until there’s nothing left of himself. He loves this, loves giving Geoff everything he has, giving Geoff control of all of himself, right down to the breaths that Gavin’s allowed to take.

Geoff moves, rolling his hips and fucking into Gavin’s mouth. He slowly gives Gavin more and more of his cock until there’s none left to give, tears at the corners of Gavin’s eyes. When he pulls away, drags his cock back and away from Gavin’s mouth to let him breathe, Gavin whines at the loss, tries to follow it despite being tied as he is.

“Whore,” Geoff says fondly, and begins again.

He fucks Gavin’s mouth, and Gavin takes it, slipping into that soft, comfortable place within his mind where all he has to do is _feel_ , all he has to do is be good for Geoff and take what he’s given. He doesn’t care that tears stream freely down his cheeks, that his lips and chin are wet with drool as Geoff fucks into him roughly, steals every breath and replaces it with his cock.

“Perfect little slut,” Geoff growls out. “Pretty whore for us, aren’t you? _This_ is where you belong, Gavin, underneath us, taking everything we give you, mouth open and legs spread.”

Gavin would nod, but all he can do is moan. Geoff’s hand finds his hair, grips it hard and twists as he pulls his cock away again, coming with a long groan that could be Gavin’s name. Gavin closes his eyes, feels the hot splash of it against his cheeks and chest, and lets out a keen of his own.

Then, Geoff’s breathing steadies and his hands pull away from Gavin’s hair and hand, respectively. One of his thumbs comes down to swipe through the mess on Gavin’s cheek, pressing it to the wet heat of Gavin’s open mouth.

Gavin’s eyes slide open once more as he sucks on Geoff’s thumb, the taste of him sharp on Gavin’s tongue.

“Good boy,” Geoff says again, pulls his hand away to drag it down Gavin’s side. “Perfect, you did so well… I promised you a reward, didn’t I?”

“Please,” Gavin murmurs, voice gone rough from Geoff using his mouth. “ _Please_ don’t tease me tonight, Geoff, I can’t bear it.”

“You would if I told you to,” Geoff replies with easy confidence, sure of Gavin’s obedience. “But I’ll have mercy on you, little bird.” He slides down the bed, settles between Gavin’s thighs, hands pushing them open.

And then, to Gavin’s utter amazement, Geoff leans down and closes his lips around the head of Gavin’s cock, sucking hard. Gavin can’t help the way his hips stutter up into the heat of Geoff’s mouth, but Geoff’s hands shove him back down, pinning him against the bed.

“Geoff,” Gavin breathes out, eyes wide. “ _Geoff_.”

Geoff’s eyes dart to his, and he bobs his head, sucking as he takes Gavin deep. There’s a spark in his eyes that is dark, commanding, and Gavin knows that he’s been given a gift that no one else has received, that this is a rare thing, and that Geoff is in complete and utter control.

Geoff sucks him down quick and rough, hands keeping Gavin’s hips down even as Gavin throws his head back and moans, even as Geoff takes him into his throat. It’s over far too soon, Gavin thinks wildly as his orgasm rapidly approaches, and he barely has time to gasp out a warning before he’s coming, surrounded by tight, wet heat and suction, Geoff’s eyes sharp on his.

Geoff pulls away, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He sits back on his heels and studies Gavin for a moment, hand idly stroking Gavin’s calf, watching as Gavin comes down, chest heaving and eyelashes fluttering.

Then, he reaches up and carefully undoes the ties around Gavin’s wrists. He leaves the bed for a moment, only to come back with a soft cloth, wiping Gavin’s face gently. Gavin curls into him, fingers clutching at his thigh like he’s afraid Geoff will simply leave him, like Geoff will disappear.

“Welcome home,” Geoff murmurs, and leans down to kiss his forehead.


	10. Epilogue (Geoff/Gavin/Michael/Ray/Ryan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our ending is not theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hell of a ride.
> 
> First things first, a big thanks to Emono - I never would have started this fic without being inspired by them, and I never would have finished it without them. Another huge thank you to everyone who commented and gave kudos, because that's really what kept this fic going. 
> 
> I have the bare beginnings of a sequel in mind, so keep an eye out for that. 
> 
> Finally, if you liked this fic, please pay me a visit at Jellyfish-Fic.tumblr.com and send prompts or messages or asks or whatever you want. You can also check out my main blog, vintagejellyfish.tumblr.com. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your continued support for this fic and for my writing!

The crown is an unfamiliar weight on Gavin’s head.

It’s Geoff’s, one of his ceremonial ones instead of the one that he normally wears when conducting business. Gavin has to concentrate to keep it from falling, even as Ryan rolls his hips, thrusting his cock between Gavin’s lips. Michael’s at his back, tongue lapping at the rim of his hole as he does his level best to get Gavin to lose, to drop the crown and take the punishment. Ropes bite into his wrists, where they’re bound behind his back, and Gavin is only being held up by Michael’s arm around his waist and Ryan’s hands on his head.

It’s taking everything Gavin has to hold his head steady, to keep the crown on his head. Geoff had told him there would be consequences should it fall, and Gavin wants desperately to be good, still feels that he has to prove himself even after all these months under their care. It’s all so overwhelming, the feeling of Ryan’s hands on the back of his head, the cock in his mouth, Michael’s frankly _amazing_ tongue working him over.

“You’re doing so well,” Ray murmurs from beside him as Ryan retreats, giving Gavin a brief break to breathe. Ray’s fingers are gentle, soothing down Gavin’s side like he’s a startled animal. “So perfect, Gavin, so good for us.”

“Looks good in that crown, doesn’t he,” Geoff says from the head of the bed where he’s simply watching, hands crossed behind his head and cock standing proudly. “Look at our tame little thief, our precious whore.”

Gavin lets out a little whine, tries to move forward to take Ryan between his lips once more, but the Mad King’s hand on his throat holds him back.

“Imagine him in full regal attire,” Ray adds. “I’d strip him out of it again as soon as it was on.”

“I’ve seen him in his Freemen gear.” Finally, Ryan relents, shifting Gavin forward and feeding him his cock once more. “It’s quite the sight.”

Gavin flushes as they talk about him, both warmed and embarrassed by the praise. Michael slips a finger in suddenly, and Gavin gives a jolt forward, accidentally taking Ryan’s cock deeper than he intended. His eyes water in response, and he instinctively pulls back, but Ryan’s hand on the back of his head stops him, keeps him in place, forcing him to take it in exactly the way that Gavin likes.

Michael laughs a little, tufts of breath against the skin of Gavin’s ass, and pulls his face away, reaching for the oil. “We did catch ourselves an attractive one,” he agrees, and presses a second finger in beside the first. It’s purely for teasing – Gavin doesn’t _need_ stretching, still open from only an hour earlier.

Geoff hasn’t let him come all day.

“A pretty thief, just for us,” Ray says, presses a kiss to Gavin’s shoulder. His hand drifts up to cover Ryan’s at the base of Gavin’s skull, pressing him forward to take even more of Ryan’s cock, until Gavin’s nose is pressed to Ryan’s groin. Michael chooses that moment to drive his fingers in and twist, and Gavin gives another jolt, the crown shifting on his head dangerously.

Ryan hums darkly, finally letting Gavin pull back and breathe again. “I wonder how well that crown will stay on when Michael fucks you,” he says, sitting back and letting Ray sidle between them.

Michael’s lifts Gavin, presses his chest to Gavin’s back, giving Ray even more room, and Gavin wonders briefly what they have planned for him. Then, the head of Michael’s cock is pressing teasingly at his slick hole, and Gavin forgets to keep thinking.

“Can you be good for us, Gavin?” Ray asks in a quiet, commanding tone.

“Always,” Gavin breathes, the word feeling as though it drips from him. He lets his eyes fall closed as Michael presses inside him, thinking wildly that he’ll never grow tired of this, not in the centuries or millennia that he faces before him – and he’s starting to really believe that they’ll face the years together.

Ray’s hands come up, gentle, to straighten the crown once more, and then fall to Gavin’s shoulders, caressing the skin littered with bruises and bites. Michael’s arm around his chest is steady and solid, keeping him in place, and Gavin lets out a gasp as Michael’s other hand, slick with oil, wraps around his cock, stroking him slowly.

Ray lays down, pillowing his head in Ryan’s lap and spreading his legs, and it’s a glorious picture – the pose should be submissive but Gavin _knows_ that Ray is fully in control of him, they all are. He lets out a moan as he watches Ryan’s big hand come to rest on Ray’s throat briefly, watches as Ray’s eyes flutter closed for just a moment, and then his hands are coming up, fingers tangling with Ryan’s.

“Ready?” Ryan murmurs, and Gavin thinks that he’s so gods-damned privileged to be able to see these moments between them, Ray’s fleeting submission and Ryan’s gentleness. Ray nods, once, and then his eyes are open once more, glancing at Michael before his gaze finds Gavin’s.

Ray lifts his hips, Ryan sliding a pillow beneath him, and Gavin finally catches on, finally realizes what’s about to happen, and the moan that tears from his throat is a mix of reverent and desperate. Michael chuckles behind him, and then he’s guiding Gavin’s cock between Ray’s thighs, hips driving him forward so that Gavin presses in slowly.

Ray lets out a breathy little sound, fingers twisting in Ryan’s grasp. “Don’t hold back,” he says, eyes finding Michael’s again before he’s looking up at Ryan, head tilted back in a way that makes Gavin want to bury his nose there, nip and kiss at the skin as much as he’s allowed. Ryan’s fingers move from Ray’s to encircle his wrists instead, holding them together above his head.

Michael’s first thrust is careful, measured, but it echoes through both Gavin and Ray, Gavin letting out a little keen. He won’t be able to last long, he knows, even with whatever orders they give him, the mix of _fullfullfull_ feeling and the tight heat of Ray almost too much for him to bear.

Michael rolls his hips again, setting a pace that’s no gentler than it’s ever been with him, but it’s so, _so_ much _more_ , and Gavin feels as though he may burst, may come apart into stardust and blow away with how good it feels, how _much_ it feels.

Hands on his cheeks, thumbs wiping away tears he didn’t even realize were there, coming up to straighten the crown and keep it on his head. “Hush,” Geoff says, soothingly. “You’re doing so well, Gavin, so good for us. All ours, aren’t you? It’s so much, isn’t it?”

Gavin breathes out a broken “ _yes_ ” and then a desperate “ _please_.” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, what more they could give him, but words are hard to reach, far away and distant. He feels _used_ , taken and owned, like Michael’s fucking Ray right through him.

“Soon,” Geoff says, and Gavin has to focus on the words as Michael somehow musters up the ability to fuck him _harder_ , little sounds of pleasure coming from Ray’s mouth as Gavin fucks him in turn. “Soon, love, you’ll have your own crown, and the world will see you as we do – incredible and perfect.”

“I can’t,” Gavin manages to gasp. “I can’t, please can I, _gods_.” It’s just sounds, words that he can barely string together and hope that they mean something.

“Hush,” Geoff says again, fingers petting down his face. “We’ve got you, Gavin, it’s alright, _let go_.”

Gavin keens, loud and long, twisting in Michael’s grasp as his orgasm sweeps over him at his king’s command, rushing through him like it never has before. The crown finally falls from his head into Geoff’s waiting hands, and Gavin goes limp in Michael’s arms.

He barely registers a rough sound, almost animalistic, as Michael hauls him back and away from Ray, dropping him onto the bed and holding him there, fucking into him hard and rough. It’s too much, overstimulation at its very best, and Gavin can only take what he’s given and whimper, desperate for more, for Michael to stop, anything they’ll give him, he doesn’t know, _he doesn’t know._ Geoff is still murmuring in his ear, soothing sounds that Gavin can’t even comprehend but keep him tethered nonetheless, stop him from floating far away.

Michael’s thrusts grow erratic before he pulls out, and Gavin feels him come across his back and ass, one hand still digging into the flesh of Gavin’s hip, leaving marks and bruises that Gavin will love come morning.

It’s Geoff’s fingers that quickly untie the ropes binding Gavin’s arms behind him, and it’s Michael that cleans him off. Geoff drags a barely-there Gavin onto his own lap, cradles him close and pets at him until Gavin starts to stir, starts to come back to them. When Gavin finally opens his eyes, he can see Ryan curled over Ray on the bed, fucking into him languidly and pinning Ray’s hands above his head, but both of their eyes are on him, dark and blown like they would have him again.

He shivers – it would be too much, Gavin thinks, too much to bear, and yet if they asked, he would go willingly, into whatever pleasurable hell to which they would lead him.

 

Later, Geoff’s fingers card through his hair, Gavin’s head on his thigh. Michael’s hand rests on his hip, thrown across where Ray dozes softly between the two of them. Ryan is a solid presence at his back, protective and possessive, and Gavin’s never felt more at peace.

In a few days, Jack will return from the North. In a month, Gavin will have his own crown and title. In a millennium, they’ll rule a city instead of a kingdom, a new king at their sides.

There’s nothing but time before them, a rolling wave that will never stop, full of blood and impermanent deaths, years that they’ll face together. _Nothing_ will keep them apart, Gavin knows in his soul. Not even death can stop them.

For now, though, curled safely between his lovers, his kings… For now, Gavin rests.

 

**End**


End file.
